Soul Sacrifice
by swaggercaptain
Summary: When someone gets marked by the wraith, they become the catalyst for a series of a events that no one could have foretold. What happens when sacrifice is made? Would you travel to the ends of the Earth to save a soul? More importantly, will a smug pirate captain risk everything for the swan? Set after "2x18" Rating may change.
1. Prologue

**A/U This is not meant to make absolute sense because it is a prologue and set in the future (basically where this fic will end up) but I need you all to trust me. Please give me your hearts and feels so I can both crush them and sprinkle them with fairy-dust over a long period of time. **

**Soul Sacrifice**

_PROLOGUE_

The smell of smoke filled his nostrils, the heady by-product of excessive magic swirling all around them in the air. His icy blue eyes locked onto the impossibly green ones that stared down at him with a mix of cruel satisfaction and unresolved betrayal. The past had a bad habit of catching up with the residents of this town – if not for some of their actions, none of this would have happened. But it seemed the tendency to ignore future consequences ran through this settlement as if it were an inherited gene.

"I told you I would kill you," she said, the needle-sharp point of her dagger precariously tracing his Adam's apple. Killian laughed once without humour, his eyes trained on hers. He would not reward her with the fulfilment of watching him die without defiance.

"You don't even look afraid," she said with a cocked head, her tone unnaturally apathetic. Her indifference was the most unnerving thing about her; Killian could still remember the brightness and purity she had once embodied. This woman's disposition was a constant reminder of the scars he had left her to bear and the regret affected him more than her current temperament.

Killian's thoughts inevitably drifted back to the blonde who could be heard fighting somewhere behind him – more specifically, the time she had cursed his inability to fear things. It felt like a lifetime ago, that day that was forever bathed in the warmth of afternoon sunlight. Her crystalline eyes flashing with anger and the faintest vein of relief, her hair as it had flailed unrestrained in the sea breeze.

"You're not afraid of anything and it's going to get you killed one day, Killian!" she had yelled indignantly. And she was right, it was about to get him killed because once upon a time he had hurt a woman very deeply. He had not bothered to ponder the consequences of his actions and look where it had gotten him; kneeling before his executioner with the blade of a knife pressed firmly to his throat.

She watched him curiously, unconcerned with the battle that was still occurring behind them. The lives of her comrades, in her eyes, were as insignificant as the dirt she would find tucked beneath her perfectly uniform nails. Either way, she needn't worry about them with the weapon she possessed.

"Just get it over with," Killian replied. It was not so much fear that tinted his handsome features, but resignation with the slightest hint of regret. Regret that he would not fulfil the promises he had made to so many people. She narrowed her eyes and the appeased expression dissolved; having him go willingly was not a fit punishment for the crimes he had committed against her. He needed to suffer and there was only one thing in this world that she could imagine might cause him the unbearable pain she desired to inflict.

"I think it unfair that you were able to crush my heart," she said and her eyes drifted up from his face to the many people fighting behind him, "so I'll crush yours." Her eyes settled on something behind him, like predator locating prey, and became unfocused. Killian knew better than to run from her or try and intercept the knife in her grip; she may have appeared oblivious to his presence but she was definitely alert. Knowing this but refusing to kneel any longer, he stood up in front of her.

Killian watched her as she spoke the foreign and turned around to try and discern the meaning of her words. He watched as the hooded figure turned from its course of action and made a direct course for the saviour. It became obvious in that moment what his executioner was doing.

She was amidst her family, consumed by the ongoing fight with the man and woman. Her powers were waning; she had already been struck once by the magical device in the woman's possession. The dark thing moved swiftly through the trees and was coming from an angle unforeseeable to her. She wouldn't have enough time to react, nor did she possess the power to fend it off.

"Swan!" Killian cried out in vain, catching her attention. She spun swiftly around and noticed the hooded figure rapidly approaching. The pirate watched as she ducked from its grip and realised very quickly that she didn't have much time. He turned back to the green eyes that were focused on the thing, the lips that muttered incomprehensible words, and knew that he had to draw her attention away.

Killian glanced back at the woman desperately trying to avoid the beast and drank in her features for the last time. The grey-blue eyes that constantly implored him to be better and unflinchingly scolded him when he wasn't. The blonde hair that felt like silk and framed her face like a halo when it was fanned across a pillow in the dead of night. The angles of her face and the curve of her mouth; he could vividly recall the warmth they elicited within when pressed against him and phantom touches immediately began to dance along his lips. He could afford himself this last glance.

The pirate took a deep breath, steadying himself as he did the only thing that would draw the possessed woman's attention away. He did something that he never would have been prompted to do had it not been for the inconceivable feelings he harboured for the blonde. He made the ultimate sacrifice.

Killian took a calculated step closer to his attacker, thrusting himself forward with significant effort – into the knife that had remained in her steady grasp. The dagger pierced his abdomen like it was tissue, a testament to the pinpoint to which it had been sharpened. The woman holding the weapon stopped what she was doing and stared at the man before her. Her face creased in utter shock and she pulled the blade from Killian with a blunt jerk.

The pain of the wound was muffled somewhat by the knowledge that he had successfully drawn her attention away from her task. At least he would die with dignity and, in death, he would have accomplished the only thing he'd ever sought; to protect her. He had faith that she would come out of this mess, not unscathed but, alive.

He grunted in pain, falling to his knees before her. The knife was coated with his blood and dangled at head-height from her delicate hand. She seemed unable to comprehend his actions, as if the idea of sacrifice has never crossed her mind. He couldn't blame her, really – the last time she'd known him was when he'd been in his darkest days. In her mind, the concept of Captain Hook making an honourable sacrifice was unprecedented.

Killian looked down to where a scarlet stain was slowly saturating his shirt and placed his only hand over it. The slight pressure was enough to make him cry out but the pirate managed to bite his tongue. His jaw set, Killian raised his eyes to look up at the woman before she could deliver the mortal blow. It would all be over soon and blackness bit at the edges of his vision. He could feel himself swaying slightly with the effort it took to stay upright. As the leaves littering the forest floor crackled faintly beneath his weight, the pirate heard a blood-curdling scream behind him.

"_Killian!_" Emma cried out, her voice loud and painfully clear against the mostly quiet back drop of the forest.

_**Chapter One: The Mark**_** coming VERY soon.**


	2. Chapter 1: The Mark

**A/U Thank you so much for the response so far guys! Now the real fun begins (my definition of fun being: simultaneously crushing and cuddling your hearts). Here's Chapter One!**

**Chapter 1: The Mark**

He couldn't see and he couldn't speak – the black rag stuffed in his mouth preventing any articulate speech. The hood enveloping his entire head severely impaired his sight, although he could make out silhouettes in the dim lighting of wherever the hell he was. Killian shifted on the spot, his bound hands and restrained chest preventing any other movement. The pirate would have been able to evade his constraints had his captors not stolen the metal appendage that would have permitted him to escape.

Killian inwardly cursed the blonde responsible for his situation. Had she not knocked him unconscious and tied him – still unconscious, unfortunately – to a groaning metal machine in a dungeon, he would not have woken only to be gagged, blindfolded and incapacitated by an unfamiliar female.

He replayed the memory in his head, trying to ascertain whether he knew the woman or if she might have a vendetta against him – he had, after all, earned the wrath of many a lass in his time. The caramel brown skin and black hair did nothing to jog his memory and yet those feline eyes burned into him with recognition. _She_ had clearly known who he was.

There was only one thing that muffled his discomfort and that was the knowledge that by now his crocodile would be dead. The poison that his hook had been saturated with was not medically curable. And with no magic to assist the Dark One, he would have perished in his own vomit and sweat. Granted, Killian would have preferred to watch as the miserable imp withered away but all the same his revenge had finally been achieved. He wondered idly whether or not Cora would be pleased that her greatest magical rival was deceased and momentarily considered trying to call out to her. He let the thought drop though, if she wanted him out of the situation he was in – she would have done something. The bloody witch had eyes everywhere and would definitely know the pirate's whereabouts.

The sound of footsteps on gravel drew Killian from his thoughts, alerting him to someone's arrival and he straightened as much as he could. The rhythm of feet crunching the stony surface made it clear there were two people approaching. Soon the footsteps were close enough that the pirate would have _felt_ their owners' presence if he hadn't been able to vaguely identify two silhouettes in front of him and he waited impatiently for them to explain their purpose.

One of the people before him shuffled closer and suddenly the black bag over his head was lifted. The room he was in was dark and appeared to be lit only by lanterns gracing the walls. Wooden structures seemed to hold up said walls that consisted of a mixture of stone and dirt. It didn't take an intellect to deduce they were underground.

Killian quickly adjusted to the lighting and eyed the two individuals before him. The person responsible for unveiling him was the woman who had kidnapped him back in Manhattan. He motioned his eyes downward in a silent demand to be ungagged. The woman kept her eyes locked on his as she carefully removed the material hindering Killian's ability to speak.

The pirate flexed his jaw for a minute before letting his eyes land directly on the woman. He drank in her image, smirking reflexively as he studied her face and let his gaze wander downwards. She was about his height and of a slim build. Her face was pointed with sharp catlike features, her eyes the most unnerving feature.

"Who are you?" he asked, letting the bitter ice slip into his tone as he smirked without mirth.

The silhouette in the shadows stepped forward, revealing a man with a more bulky build. He scrutinised Killian indignantly and when the unfamiliar man glanced at the woman, the pirate almost immediately understood why. She glanced at the man and the same possessive streak was obvious in her sharp eyes as she turned back to Killian.

"My name is Tamara," she announced, her voice deep and uncharacteristically musical. Her harmless façade was almost as intriguing as the Swan girl's stoic one.

"I would introduce myself but I get the feeling you already know who I am," he retorted, turning his head to watch the man.

"You're right," the unnamed man said, stepping closer and watching his captive's expression with patronizing satisfaction and a hint of amusement. "We know _exactly_ who you are."

Killian's smirk dropped at the tone of voice being directed his way, his eyes narrowing icily. "As much as I love the fact my reputation precedes me, I admit I'm curious to know who you are." Tamara and the man exchanged another glance and she nodded reassuringly – yet there was no semblance of affection there. Killian wondered suddenly if she was even capable of such warm emotion.

"I'm Greg," the man answered, folding his arms across his broad chest.

"That's nice. Let me elucidate; why am I here?" the pirate asked drolly.

Tamara stood back so she was beside Greg, "We're giving you an opportunity," she said seriously. Unfortunately, however, her captor was not at all interested in aligning himself with them. He would admit that his situation wasn't favourable but being a pirate meant he'd been tied down more than once and with enough time he would escape their binds. The lack of his appendage would make it difficult, yes, but it was not an impossible feat.

With all this in mind, Killian chuckled and cast his eyes downward as he shook his head. His reaction didn't please the two individuals surveying him and Greg walked closer to him.

"As you can probably gather, I'm not interested," the pirate said amusedly, leaning his head back against the wall he was tied to.

"Interesting, coming from a man whose sole purpose in life is unfinished," Tamara interjected indifferently. The implication of her words snapped Killian to attention and he was immediately watching her, eyes narrowed in scrutiny.

"What are you inferring?" he asked. She stepped closer and pulled a small object from her back pocket that reflected a metallic gleam in the light. Manoeuvring the device revealed it was a pocket knife and she held it up for inspection in the dim lighting.

"It's to my understanding that you want Rumplestiltskin dead?" she inquired, but it was more of a statement than a question. Killian didn't answer and kept an eye on the blade in her hand which she brought down so she could focus on him. He met her gaze unflinchingly as she stepped closer again. Greg was watching the two of them carefully, clearly tentative about their proximity. When silence met the woman's query she decided to continue speaking.

"Unfortunately for you, he's still alive – thanks to the efforts of none other than the saviour," she said, clearly relishing in the anger that marred Killian's face. She let this information sink in before whipping the blade forward. He abruptly felt himself sag forward from the wall as one of the binds holding him down was cut, followed in quick succession by the others. Killian stepped forward from the wall, his head tilted down and dark eyes flashing between the two people.

This lass was clearly quite daring to have faith that the pirate wouldn't engage them right then and there out of pure rage. He recalled her earlier statement and finally spoke up.

"How can you help me?" Killian growled.

Greg walked to the wall of the cave and leaned against it – clearly, Tamara was the instigator here. She paced elegantly towards the man, her eyes never leaving the pirate's.

"We know how to kill magical creatures," she said, and stopped when she was close to her partner. Killian looked at her closely – there was something about this woman that screamed deceit. Unfortunately though, as of late he had taken to not trusting his instincts. After all, his instincts had told him to genuinely ally with the good guys once and that had not concluded in his favour.

"How can I be sure you aren't lying?" he questioned, absentmindedly rubbing his stump.

Tamara looked at Greg then, who produced another device from the pocket of his jacket – it was rectangular with a smaller circular prism on one of the surfaces. He walked closer to Killian, pressing numerous buttons on the thing until he held it so that a small screen was visible to them both. The screen was playing some sort of reimaging of the crocodile walking down one of the many streets of Storybrooke, as healthy as if he'd just been dropped down from the heavens.

Killian cursed angrily under his breath as Greg tucked the device away and walked leisurely over to Tamara again.

"As I said before, we're giving you an opportunity to join us," she said confidently, "and as a sign of good faith – here." A flash of silver caught his eye just before the woman tossed the item to him. He caught his hook deftly and immediately addressed its reattachment. When it was clicked into place, he looked up.

"What's the plan?" he asked apathetically.

Tamara smiled unpleasantly and put her gloved hand into the pocket of her jacket. When she renewed it, there was a gold medallion swinging ominously from where she held the material attached to it.

8888

Emma walked briskly through the mostly deserted streets of Storybrooke, her footsteps echoing loudly as she stalked forward. Everyone was either at work or at school; this town's obliviousness to disaster often astounded her. But then, she ought not to criticise them too harshly. After all, how could they be expected to all know the sinister workings of the other residents – or rather, _visitors_?

She walked purposefully towards the pawnbroker's store and ignored the 'closed' sign that had been posted against the window. The blonde opened the unlocked door and stepped inside, scanning the dank room for the person she sought. The little bell above the door tinkled faintly in the background as she scrutinised the shop. While there appeared to be no one present, she knew better than to trust appearances and quickly moved behind the counter.

There was two metres separating her from the red velvet curtain that sanctioned off the back room when a person emerged. He looked up and immediately stuffed his hands in his coat pockets.

"You came," Neal commented rather dumbfounded. Emma didn't know whether to construe his tone as an insult and so chose to ignore it. He'd called her a short time ago and requested they meet, for once the insistence in his voice making her listen. With everything that was happening, she couldn't have risked letting him sort out whatever it was on his own.

"You told me it was urgent. What is it Neal?" she asked, exasperation clear in her movements. The man opposite her shifted his weight nervously, silence answering her question. Emma sighed.

"I get that you might still be in shock about the whole Tamara-Greg thing and I am really sorry about that but we need to be out there looking for them," she said, trying to incorporate some form of sympathy into her terse words. It had been a hell of a week, what with Tamara revealing her true intentions and the constant anxiety of Hook's return. She knew the pirate would be furious when he divulged her involvement in Gold's recuperation – she wasn't idiotic enough to assume he wouldn't find his way back to the dreary little town of Storybrooke with the intention of continuing his quest for vengeance. As for Neal's ex-fiancé, Emma couldn't help but feel bad for the father of her child when the elusive woman had been exposed as the cause of Augusts' death and a rather unscrupulous individual.

Since that discovery, along with the subsequent one which allied her with the car-accident newcomer Greg, the town had been put on high alert and Emma, along with her father, had spent the week scouring the town for them. Gold's attempts to locate them with magic had proved unsuccessful and made the process all the more tedious. Regina had proved no different in her ardent attempts.

Neal nodded in understanding and bit his lip. He appeared unsure of how to deliver whatever revelation he had stored, resigning to simply pull his hands out of his pockets and hold his left one up to the blonde. Emblazoned across the skin on his palm was an angry red burn. The puckered skin formed a circle with a strange symbol in the centre.

Emma shook her head, confused. He looked resigned and war y but it was only a burn.

"Tamara and Greg paid me a visit early this morning," Neal said, "and… they marked me with this using a talisman." He waited to see if the saviour before him had caught on which she evidently had not.

"Emma, have you ever dealt with a wraith?" he asked and immediately Emma understood. She grabbed his hand deftly, studying the mark and looking up at him with unchained concern in her eyes. While she was sure there was no longer any romantic affection she did still care about his welfare, especially since he was the father of her child. He looked grimly between her blue-grey eyes and the ugly mark on his palm.

"How long do you have before the wraith comes for you?" she asked. The memory of the thing that had attacked Regina danced beneath her lids and she swallowed. Neal shrugged uncertainly and pulled his hand away.

"Don't touch it or it'll transfer on to you," he warned, tucking his hand back in his pocket and looking at her seriously. Emma ran a hand through her blonde hair and exhaled heavily.

"What are we going to do?" she asked. Her thoughts were immediately consumed by Henry and the thought of him losing his newfound father – the father he had essentially idolised since meeting. It would crush him and she abruptly found herself determined to keep this man alive at all costs. Her son couldn't afford to lose anyone, especially someone he'd just found.

Neal shook his head and cast his eyes downward, "I don't know. The wraith will be here soon… I have to leave Storybrooke until we figure out a way to stop it," he said.

"You can't leave! Henry needs you here, he only just found you," she said vehemently. He looked up and the frustration he felt contorted his features.

"Well I can't just stay here, can I?" he snapped, raising his arms to motion around the shop as if it were the entire town. Emma shook her head – there had to be something else they could do. She eyed his hand with the burn mark, the cogs in her head spinning rapidly to form some kind of solution. Henry _needed_ Neal at the moment; he needed the father figure in his life. But he didn't really need Emma – not now anyway. It wasn't something the saviour deigned to admit either, she understood the newfound awe in locating a parent and could fathom the complacency that came with an old one.

They would fix this, but in the meantime more drastic measures were required.

Emma grabbed Neal's outstretched left arm and temporarily blindsided the man. He watched her in utter befuddlement for a moment before realising what she was doing. The blonde placed her palm against his and felt a strange tingling sensation erupt on the space where their hands touched. Neal understood her intent and quickly tried to pry her off but she had a good grip on his left arm, pinned in the spaced between her torso and upper-arm.

"Emma, no!" he yelled, getting a grip on her shoulder. But, before Neal could jerk her away, his body immobilised unwillingly. Both adults' eyes snapped sideways to the door frame of the pawn shop where Gold had his hand outstretched. The tell-tale feel of magic crackled against Emma's back as she kept her hand pressed against Neal's. The tingling was now full-fledged burning and she hissed in dismay at the sensation.

Gold stepped closer, his hand still outstretched to maintain the magic that had his son paralysed, and watched him with a rueful expression.

"I can't lose you again," he said sincerely and let his gaze fall to the saviour who was painstakingly keeping her hand in place. Emma bit her lip as the skin on her palm was attacked. Suddenly, the pain ceased and she let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. The saviour pulled her hand up to inspect it and flinched slightly when she saw the ugly mark now etched on her palm. Behind her, Neal dropped from where he had been held and glared at his father furiously.

"What have you done?" he growled and turned to look at Emma, "What are you thinking?"

Her lips formed a thin line, "Henry needs his father –"

"_And_ his mother! Emma, what the _hell_ is wrong with you?" Neal demanded, angrily stepping closer to her. He moved to grab her marked hand but she anticipated his action and avoided it, lithely walking around him and around to the other side of the counter. Gold stood beside her and she stared at him meaningfully.

"I'm going to leave town so the wraith can't get me. Until you've destroyed it, I'll stay in a nearby town and you can give me regular updates. I'll call when I'm safe and in the meantime keep an eye out for Tamara and Greg," she said determinedly, her brow drawn in thought. Gold nodded in agreement as his son started walking around the counter to protest.

"I'm going to go and say good-bye to Henry and my parents," Emma said quickly before walking out of the shop, the light tinkling of the little golden bell the only sound in her wake. Neal stared at his father furiously for a second before starting for the door. Once again he found himself restrained by magic and bit back the slew of words he wanted to hurl at the pawnbroker.

"I can't let you go after her. You'll just try to take it back," Gold explained sadly, using his magic to draw back his son and set him down away from the door. When a suitable amount of time had passed, he relinquished the magical hold and an indignant Neal all but sprinted out of the shop in search of the blonde.

8888

The salty smell of the ocean wafted up from the waves as they lapped against the side of the ship. It was a considerably docile day in Storybrooke, a substantial event was yet to occur – although he had no doubt something would happen. Something always happened in the seemingly unassuming town. One would think he might enjoy the calm seeing as how he had spent the past few weeks in a whirlwind of deals with witches, traversing of realms, revenge plots and an incredible number of appointments with the floor. But no, Killian Jones sought something to ease his boredom. Or perhaps it was more so a desire to divert his attention from his failed attempt at revenge – and the golden-haired temptress that tended to invade his thoughts at regular intervals.

He enjoyed being back on his ship and vaguely wondered when he would hear from his newest allies. The thought of his crocodile still roaming the streets as a free man boiled the blood in his veins and made him anxious to act. However, Tamara and Greg had made it quite clear two days earlier that they needed other agendas to be addressed before they gave Killian what he wanted – Rumplestiltskin's life. And who was he to demand otherwise?

Immediately following their alliance, Cora's death had been relayed to him. He felt no sincere attachment to the witch and therefore no semblance of grief over her passing. And so now, all he could do was wait to hear their next move – hence the boredom.

The pirate leaned against the side of the Jolly Roger, observing the small section of the town that was visible from his spot on the ship. There wasn't much occurring in the streets as all the young ones were at their education facilities and the adults were consumed by menial jobs. Monotony had never suited Killian Jones and he sighed heavily in frustration.

He was about to move away from the side of the ship when he spotted a yellow 'car,' as they called them, making its way towards the quay. Recognition caused a dark smirk to play across his features and he moved over to the wooden board that led off his ship and onto the docks. Killian walked eagerly up towards the road that ran around the perimeter of the waterfront and leaned lazily against a lamp post. Her car teetered to a stop on the side of the road and she jumped out, her hair flailing slightly in the light breeze. The pirate waited for her to turn around and recognise him – keen to watch the expression on her face as she realised he was back.

Surprisingly, though, Emma simply looked around in search of somebody. She moved with purpose and determination, efficient and precise with every action. He watched her curiously and, after a good minute of observation, decided he would spur an interaction. Strutting down the path that ran adjacent to the road, Killian waited until she saw him to speak. She had just finished scrutinising one side of the harbor and turned to scan the other when she spotted him.

"Morning Swan, surprised to see me?" he asked, watching happily as her face registered shock with an edge of fear. It was a fleeting expression though, swiftly replaced by the stony and defiant façade that only he seemed to be able to penetrate.

"Not really," she replied truthfully and continued looking around for something, "I know not to underestimate you." The unintentional compliment shocked him momentarily, but he let it go – he knew better than to accept her comments as genuine praise.

"So you just wandered down here to take a tour of my ship?" Killian questioned mockingly, stopping a metre from her.

"Don't need one, already seen everything when I was coming back from New York after I tied your sorry ass up," she retorted unashamedly, looking past him to continue her apparent search. Killian's eyes narrowed at the memory and his face automatically hardened.

"Ah, yes, I do recall. Tell me, how does it feel to have salvaged the life of a monster?" he questioned, acid saturating his tone. Emma's previously occupied gaze snapped onto him; so he knew about her involvement in Gold's resurrection. She suddenly felt the need to explain that the Dark One's relation to Henry made him redeemable by default but resisted the urge. She didn't owe Hook an explanation because she didn't need to justify herself to him.

"About as good as it feels to have failed killing him," she countered icily. The pirate glared at her as silence enveloped them and the tension became almost palpable. Emma decided she didn't have the time or the energy for a verbal fencing match with Hook, turning to face the docks and scan them one last time.

"I'm surprised you haven't restrained me as of yet. My reappearance isn't your top priority?" he asked bitterly. Emma mumbled something unintelligible and continued scrutinising the area around her.

"What are you looking for that could engross you this thoroughly?" Killian asked with a bit of bite in his tone, watching her intently.

Emma turned and eyed him without the frequent acrimony or even the dryness she usually displayed in his presence, "Have you seen Henry?" she asked in answer to his question. The pirate's eyebrows rose and drew together in confusion as he analysed her face. Within a moment he was able to determine something more severe was in progress and dismissed his prior resentment. He would never fathom what it was about the lass that commanded every fibre of his attention in a serious situation. And besides, she was still his closest source to the crocodile – thereby increasing her importance on the grounds of possible information. Not that he thought she would willingly volunteer anything of relevance; the game to trick it out of her was a part of the fun.

"I have not seen the lad, why do you ask?" he questioned. She tucked a flyaway piece of hair behind one ear and watched him carefully, as if trying to weigh up the risk that telling him posed. Her right hand hovered near her face for an instant longer than she intended and Killian glimpsed the burn. He snatched her hand away from her face, turning it over and inspecting it before she could even protest. Emma jerked her hand back defensively, but not before he was able to recognise the symbol that had been painfully entrenched on her palm.

"_Emma_," the pirate growled angrily, "how did you get this?"

"What? The infamous Captain Hook is scared of getting his soul taken?" Emma teased coldly, still not paying him her full attention. Killian smirked but there was no warmth evident in his expression.

"That would require me to _have_ a soul, love," he replied, equally chilly. The blonde gave him a sarcastic tight-lipped smile in response before turning on her heel and heading back to the car. She had taken all of two steps when the pirate gripped her elbow to spin her around.

"You didn't answer my question, Swan. How did you get it?" Killian asked, the intensity in his eyes and tone taking her off-guard for a fleeting moment. He appeared angry by the fact that she had the wraith's mark – and not purely because she had it.

Emma narrowed her eyes suspiciously, suddenly sensing the knowing edge to his tone. How she hadn't picked up on it earlier was lost to her but she could now plainly see the way he looked at her with a complex mix of confusion, irritation and – was that protectiveness she observed?

"I get the feeling I'm not supposed to have it?" she inquired darkly, eyes suddenly ablaze with fury. While Emma wasn't renowned for her striking intelligence, she did know a thing or two about deduction. And it wasn't hard to identify that the pirate clearly thought the mark was meant to be somewhere else.

"Did Tamara and Greg give you the mark?" he asked, ignoring the accusation in her voice. Their plan had either not been properly relayed to him or they had left out some very important details. Emma was not supposed to bear the mark.

She shook her head with a frown, "No, but they did give it to Neal. And I'm guessing you were involved." Emma watched his expression as it relaxed only marginally before deepening again as he realised what she must have done. Once again, her accusation seemed to be unheard by the pirate as he bit his lip angrily.

"So he just passed it on to you to save himself? It seems cowardice really does run in that family," Killian gritted his teeth, looking around them and noticing the eerie quiet that had descended apart from the sound of their voices piercing the cold morning air.

Emma felt strangely defensive of her ex-lover, probably because 'that family' technically included Henry. And she knew by now that the boy was everything but a coward.

"Actually, I took it from him unwillingly because, you know, that's what saviours do. And good people," she replied mockingly as he watched her. The man frowned; suddenly curious as to why she would sacrifice herself for the imp. In his opinion, sacrificing yourself for another was a waste of valuable time and effort. After all, how can someone truly appreciate that sort of gesture and, more importantly, how would the sacrifice ever know if their decision was in vain. The whole notion was ridiculous.

"You're a bloody idiot, Swan, and you're going to return that mark," Killian said, striking out with his good arm to grip her elbow. However, Emma anticipated his movement and stepped back so his good hand swiped at thin air. He looked up at her, not so much angry as exasperated and impatient.

"No, I'm going to find my son and then I'm leaving. And I shouldn't have to remind you that just because I'll be gone it doesn't mean you get free reign. Touch Belle or Gold or anyone and I will risk coming back to skin you myself," she threatened, turning on her heel and marching back to the car. It was only a second before Killian was moving to catch up to her, hooking her arm and spinning her violently on the spot.

"Why can't you just have _some_ self-preservation instincts?" he asked, aware of the fact that he had accidently turned her so she was inches from him. Their proximity appeared to affect her too as she glanced haphazardly at his lips.

"What is your problem, Hook?" Emma snapped, maintaining eye contact.

"My problem is you sacrificing yourself for no good reason!" the pirate yelled back. His ice blue eyes were striking like that; focused entirely on her and saturated in raw emotion. Much against his wishes, he was beginning to show the strange protective instincts he felt towards her.

"If you hadn't given Neal the mark in the first place, I wouldn't have to!" the saviour countered.

Emma ripped her arm out of Killian's grip and was about to turn around when a howling noise snapped both of them to attention. Unnoticed by them, the wind had severely picked up amidst their argument. A dark cloud covered Storybrooke, filtering the light that landed on the settlement so it was covered by a monstrous shadow.

The howling, however, did not come from the wind that was attempting to bowl them both over. Rather, it originated from the black hooded thing coming around the corner. Red eyes snapped to attention as they landed on Emma and, for the second time in her life, she felt unadulterated fear. She stumbled slightly as she stepped back from the figure making its way to her. In front of her, Killian drew his sword and turned to face her. He walked straight towards her with his sword raised at his side, a determined edge in his stride.

"Emma, get out of here. _Now_!"


	3. Chapter 2: Swansong

**A/U IT IS VERY IMPORTANT THAT YOU READ THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE! Firstly, you have not yet met the woman from the prologue – things will eventually become clearer throughout the story and by the time we circle back to the prologue you will hopefully be thinking "Oh, **_**that's**_** why she wrote that in the prologue!"**

**Secondly, I **_**cannot **_**stress enough how much I need you guys to **_**TRUST ME**_**! I fully intend to crush your hearts in this chapter because I'm a terrible cruel person but I will redeem that in the coming storyline. This is not an angst fanfic for a reason, it is adventure/romance. So please, please, please, for the love of Eddy Kitsis and Adam Horowitz trust me! **

**And I hope I at least make some of you teary.**

**Chapter Two: Swansong**

"Emma, get out of here. _Now_!"

Killian stood before her, ice blue eyes locked onto hers as he urged her to leave. She scrutinized him heavily, completely taken off guard by both the selfless shadow to his actions and the hooded creature leisurely making its way towards them. His eyes roamed hers, silently questioning why she wouldn't leave already.

"What are you going to do? You can't fight that thing with a _sword_!" the blonde countered, surprisingly angry in the frenzy of their situation. Her mind whirred in thought and Killian could swear he saw concern crease her features. But almost as soon as the emotion was shown, it was wiped away with a glance behind him. Killian used his hook to move her face so her attention was on him. His eyes pierced hers with a look of determination and she was unexpectedly and painfully aware of how close he was standing to her.

"For once in your bloody life, Swan, trust me. Get away from here – don't worry about your boy, he'll be safe. Just get out of here, now."

His last word was punctuated by an even larger howl from the beast approaching. Emma watched him intently, her eyes as piercing as his ice blue ones despite their soft colour. She could not fathom why he might even remotely be concerned for her – enough to act the way he was. All she had done so far had specifically resulted in the hindrance of his plans. She was an obstacle that he should endeavour to conquer. And yet there he was, urging her to leave as if he would hold off hell itself so she could escape.

Before either of them could make move to do anything else, Killian was abruptly and aggressively jerked backwards and he dropped his sword.

"Killian!" Emma yelled in shock, stepping forward to help him but being forced back when the attackers responsible became visible to her. He grunted painfully; Greg had the pirate by his hair and had used his lack of balance to wind an arm around his neck, dragging him back. Tamara was next to Greg and sidestepped them to engage the blonde who stared daggers at the pair. Killian yelled angrily as the burly man pulled him away from the women, realizing that the hand that had previously been in his hair was now placed so that his hook was unmovable.

"Emma, get out of here now!" he yelled through clenched teeth.

The pirate bit his lip as he used his strength to buck backwards and send both him and his attacker toppling over. He was quick to recover on his feet, running towards Emma and Tamara who were fighting. Of course she hadn't run; she didn't trust him and she didn't have any sense of self-preservation.

The blonde was lithe but the other woman had apparently received training in this kind of close combat. The former tried to land a blow to the others' side and was greeted by a sharp hit to her elbow which caused her enough pain that the knock was not nearly as powerful as it had started out. Succinctly following the attempted hit, the dark-haired woman snaked her arm out to jar Emma's shoulder. Pain shot through the saviour's arm as she stumbled back.

The self-satisfied smirk on her opposition's face gave her renewed vigor and the blonde woman launched forward to kick her shin as she grasped her arms. Tamara cried out in pain and fell down slightly, giving Emma the opportunity to knee her in the stomach. As the ebony woman curled over, she noticed the blonde preparing to strike again and sidestepped the blow. Regaining her stance, she engaged Emma.

The saviour could see her foe's face hardening with concentration as she tried to incapacitate her and used her arm to assault the focused woman's shoulder. As Tamara stumbled backwards, her hand reached into one of her coat pockets and in one calculated movement withdrew the object and thrust it towards Emma. No one completely registered what the object was at first, not until the two prongs came into contact with the saviour.

And then Emma's body began shaking as the taser-like weapon began to work on her body – sucking the energy and power from it like a vacuum where the little metal points touched her coat. Killian watched in confusion as he ran towards them, unsure about what was happening. However, as his eyes lifted to Emma's face, he felt a sudden wave of anger. Pain creased her features and only the faintest of groans passed from her clenched tight lips. The flush in her cheeks dissipated, becoming unnaturally pale. The pirate barrelled towards them just as Tamara withdrew the object and tucked it neatly back into her pocket, stepping back in satisfaction as her victim fell to her knees.

He was immediately beside Emma, who slouched on the spot barely conscious.

"Swan, get up! Get up!" he growled, gripping her arm and dragging her to her feet where he leaned her against the yellow vehicle still parked on the side of the road. Her eyes were closed and she slumped against the car; the only indicator that she was conscious the occasional groan that passed her lips and the rapid movement of her eyes beneath her eyelids. Killian looked her over desperately; he had never seen her like this and the sight had him blindsided. Emma was always awake, alert, defiant – he'd never experienced her in weakness.

Killian realized very quickly that he had two choices. He could stay and help this woman or he could escape with his life and leave her to whatever awaited. But his decision was made before he'd even really asked himself the question; while many things – a pirate, a scoundrel, a monster – Killian Jones was no coward. And despite all his shortcomings, he would not leave Emma Swan to her fate. All things considered, he knew he should leave; he didn't owe the saviour anything and her existence was a specific detriment to his plans. Having her gone would actually make things easier.

But the pirate lived by a strict code – or that's what he told himself as he prepared to take on some of her weight and drag her away towards his ship.

The beast's howl reminded Killian of its presence and he turned just in time to watch as Greg and Tamara both advanced on him. They immediately went to his arms and he was surprised at the woman's strength. Even if she wasn't strong, the way her fingers dug strategically into his nerves made the power in his arms obsolete. He jerked angrily in their grasp but his efforts were futile.

As Tamara and Greg pulled Killian away from the blonde, who leaned heavily on her car for support, he felt the fury within him double. They pried him back as he ripped himself from side-to-side in a valiant effort to escape their grip.

"You told me that she would not be harmed!" he yelled furiously. The man pushed him onto his knees harshly, a firm grip on his shoulder and arm.

"We never said that, we said Neal was our target and nothing else," he replied smugly.

"I asked what Emma's role was and you told me –" a blow to his stomach winded him.

"We told you what you needed to know – you don't think we knew he would show her the mark? That she would take it the second she found out about it? She's the saviour – _of course_ she was going to save him. For you to think any different is idiotic on your part, Hook," Tamara sneered back, digging her fingers into his shoulder a little bit harder as she said his moniker.

Emma was still leaning against the car and she mentally slapped herself to wake up. Her mind buzzed on mute but she could hear as someone yelled angrily somewhere nearby. _The pain is gone and that's all that matters_ a small broken voice within her repeated. However, in true Emma Swan fashion, another voice spoke up, harsher, telling her to snap out of it and remember the situation outside her head. Using all the strength she could muster, Emma opened her eyes and tried to push herself away from her car. Turning slightly to her right she saw Killian restrained by Tamara and Greg. He was on his knees and the look in his eyes made her turn around.

Fear coursed rapidly through Emma like ice water as she stared up at the great black hooded beast. Its glowing scarlet eyes watched her with predatory apathy as it hovered in front of her like an executioner awaiting its next victim. Killian tried desperately, with almost primal animosity, to get away from the people holding him down and bellowed.

"Emma, run! Go! _Swan_!" he roared in frustration.

In that moment, with death staring her straight in the face, she felt a wave of emotions drown her. As she watched the blood-red pinpoints that stared her down, her mind was consumed by painful thoughts and an onslaught of sentiments.

Agonizingly concentrated sadness stabbed at her heart at the realisation that she would not watch Henry grow up like she'd planned. She would not get the chance to see his face light up in excitement and anticipation as he graduated high school or the satisfaction in his smile when he received his first job, she would not have the opportunity to calm the nerves he would undoubtedly feel before his first date. Indescribable grief seized her at the notion that she would not have the option of letting her parents make up for lost time. She wouldn't get to watch as wrinkles creased their features and their hair slowly greyed. And most painfully of all, regret that she would never get the chance to farewell any of the people who had changed her life so thoroughly. Images flashed in her mind's eye; of her son laughing as he read his beloved fairy-tale book, of her parents embracing each other looking at her with unconditional love, of Ruby and Granny smiling warmly as they served hot chocolate with cream and cinnamon, of Archie nodding proudly, of Neal grinning childishly, of Killian smirking with that familiar glint in his eye.

Tears burned the back of her eyes against her will and she blinked them back fiercely. Weakness overcoming everything, Emma knew she couldn't fight it any more than she could fight the air coming in slow steady breaths in and out of her lungs. She wanted to fight – oh, how she wanted to fight – but it was inevitable and the least she could do was die with dignity. A pang of worry for Killian stained her thoughts as the wraith seemed to rise up even higher above her. Emma stood as tall as she could.

And then the world was a blurry mess as she felt the life drained from her extremities.

8888

An opaque tendril of smoky magic shot out towards Emma, connecting with her face. The hooded creature made a sound akin to a deep breath as it began to suck the life from her. And, unable to fight, she stood immobile with her arms outstretched.

Killian watched in horror as her form became increasingly limp. And still the beast drank, eliciting every last iota of warmth and life from her vulnerable body. In the distance in front of Emma, two figures were running down the docks with one straggling along behind them. As the distance separating them lessened, Killian recognized the running figures as Emma's parents; Snow and Charming. They both sprinted forward and he could hear them as they cried out desperately to their daughter. The pirate's eyes snapped back to Emma and he watched as she sunk to her knees.

Everything seemed to slow down as the pirate watched the strongest woman he'd ever met failing and his vision became tinted with red. Adrenaline coursing through his veins, Killian shoved his head back so that it smashed into Greg's lower abdomen. His captor hunched over and the grip on one of his arms weakened slightly, giving Killian the opportunity to tear it out of the man's hold. Tamara, however, still had his other shoulder. She pressed down harder, using her thumb to dig into a nerve. The pain that blasted through his shoulder caused him to yell out and he struck out at her side with his hook in succinct retaliation.

As he pulled back his appendage, he could see the blood that tinted the first inch of it. Tamara fell back at the force and pain of the blow. Greg growled wrathfully at Killian who had already regained his footing. Now standing, he immediately moved to engage the man. But the pirate was ready now and fuelled by a mix of pure rage and adrenaline. Greg shot his arm out to try and hit Killian, who swiftly captured the fist headed his direction and twisted. With his arm vulnerable, the rabid man attempted to snake out his leg in an awkward backwards kick. The pirate used his foot to kick the sensitive spot behind the man's knee, sending him down with a cry of pain.

There was no hesitation as he lifted his hook up, ready to drop it into Greg's neck. Before he could kill the miserable imp, two solid objects smashed into either side of Killian's face around his ears. Pain instantly shot through his head and he felt someone shove him aside. Tamara was immediately there, lifting Greg up feebly and pulling him away with her eyes narrowed on the man responsible. He grabbed his head painfully and cursed as he watched them hobble away and out of sight.

They were shortly followed by the hooded creature which drifted ominously across the street in the direction they had headed. The wraith was soon out of sight, and Killian felt relief that the beast had left. He could only hope the blonde had enough energy to recall his involvement in her saving. She would probably still hold a grudge against him though, that was just how she was. Either way, the pirate's aiding her might go some way to helping his case when the Dark One eventually sought out revenge for endangering his son.

Killian's muscles ached but he pulled himself to his feet anyway, clutching his head. It wasn't until the ringing subsided that he realized the thick silence that seemed to cloud to the air. There was no howling anymore; even the wind had apparently receded. He let his hand drop from where it had been rubbing his forehead. And then he heard a sound he would not soon forget.

"_Emma_," a bloodcurdling voice cried behind him, stabbing at the air. Killian felt his heart clench tightly as he forced himself to turn around. Everything seemed to slow down in that moment.

Metres away from where he stood, Snow knelt over something – her shaking torso an indicator that she had been the person to cry out. Holding onto her was Charming and he appeared to be clinging to her as if she was his only anchor to life. His body shook every time the woman in his arms trembled violently. Standing opposite them, looking down in a mix of incomprehensible shock and grief, was Neal. Killian watched them all for a minute before he let himself notice the swirl of blonde hair that was visible behind Snow and David. He walked closer despite the voice in his head screaming that he should turn and leave, get as far from this as possible because he wouldn't be able to handle this.

But Killian had never done what he ought and continued to slowly walk forward. The closer he got, the louder Snow's broken sobs became and more of the scene became visible to him. Blonde hair lay limp on the concrete ground and messily arrayed from the suddenness with which she had obviously dropped. Her face became visible to him and he felt himself stumble at the shock wave it sent through him; it was impossibly serene, she could have been sleeping. Snow's hand cupped one side of her daughter's face as she moaned something unintelligible.

Snow's body heaved deeper as a sob wracked her small frame and Charming's face became visible to the pirate. Tears stained his hardened features but the prince did not speak or yell. The expression on his face, of despair and utter hopelessness, conveyed more than any sound ever could. His eyes were trained despondently on his little girl and he looked away when Snow took a deep and shaky breath. Charming's eyes landed on the back of his wife's head and he nestled his face in the back of neck.

"Emma," Snow said again, a muffled cracked sound as she used her hands to clench the motionless woman's coat. The princess fell onto her daughter, hands clinging to the fabric of the black jacket as her head landed on the unmoving chest. David lifted his head as he ran a shaky hand through his hair and brought it back to his mouth to take a deep breath.

Killian had never been a crier but hot angry tears burned the back of his eyes as he looked down at Emma. Something akin to the feeling of a tidal wave crashed over his mind and he realized what this meant. There would be no more back-and-forth; he would never again enjoy their battle of wits. She would never again challenge him the way no one else had ever managed to. Her blue-grey eyes would not ever again pierce his with condemnation or concealed amusement or sympathy. Those lips would never part to smile or laugh or yell again. The fragile and cold hands that were relaxed in death would never again clench in excitement or irritation or violence. Emotion would not pass her mind now, because she was gone. _Emma was gone._

It took him a lot more strength than he would ever admit to restrain the tears that wanted to escape his eyes. Instead, he dealt with his pain the only way he knew how. He channeled the raw emotion into anger as he lifted his eyes to look at Neal.

"You," he said, garnering himself the attention of the aforementioned man. Neal looked up, a frown etched across his broken features. But Killian didn't care. _He_ was responsible. Stepping around Emma's body, the pirate advanced on him. Neal stepped back with his hands raised defensively.

"I tried to take it back," he said remorsefully, glancing down at Emma's motionless form that was still being clutched by Snow. His eyes searched Killian's desperately, but he was too far gone to accept any rational thought.

"She's dead because of you!" he yelled as he launched himself at Neal. The latter narrowly avoided the swipe of the other's hook as it slashed the air viciously. The succinct follow-up did not miss however and Neal was sent to the ground with a painful thump.

"You're a coward, just like your father!" Killian yelled, moving to kick the man on the ground. However, before his boot could connect, firm hands gripped his foot and manoeuvred it so his leg twisted painfully and he fell. Neal took the opportunity to stand and step back from the pirate.

"I didn't give it to her! She took it from me so – so, don't you dare blame me!" he shouted back, angry now. Killian raised himself up, flinching at the pain it sent through his sprained leg, and glared at the man. It was true, he knew Emma well-enough to know that she would have jumped him without a second thought – how she held him down was another question entirely. But she wouldn't have given up and she never would have given the damn mark back. That's just the type of person she was.

Killian's eyes drifted to her form again and he sagged on the spot. She would have hated him for trying to blame Neal because deep down, even he knew the man wasn't to blame. When he looked back at the Dark One's son, the man's eyes were no longer on the pirate but on a spot behind him. Realization dawned in Neal's eyes and he started sprinting towards something behind Killian.

"Mom?" a young voice called in the direction Neal had run. Killian's eyes widened and David's head snapped up at the sound. Snow remained with Emma's body though, her entire being consumed with grief. The prince stepped reverently around his daughter's body and started jogging on the same course Neal had gone. As he passed Killian, the pirate turned around and watched as the small boy ran towards them. Not far behind him, a young woman with dark hair was chasing him.

Henry sprinted headlong towards them, ignorant of the cries of the woman following him. As Neal approached his son, the boy slowed down slightly.

"Henry, get back! Go to Ruby, now!" he said sternly, but the desperation was evident in his voice. Emma's son frowned in confusion at his father who was desperately trying to impair the kid's line of sight.

"Where's Mom?" he demanded, walking closer to the man. Neal crouched down to be at his son's level and grasped his shoulder.

"Henry, I need you to go with Ruby," he replied. However, because of his change in position, Henry could now see over his father's shoulder. Over to where his grandmother was still sobbing, where his mother lay motionless on the ground. The boy stumbled back, his eyes widening in shock. Neal immediately noticed the change in demeanor and reached out to grab his son but the kid was already sprinting around his father towards his mother. Killian watched helplessly as Henry's eyes began to fill with tears as he ran.

Before he could reach his mother, David intercepted him; grasping his arms and pulling him in for a tight hug before he could react. A penetrating cry worked its way out of the small boy as Ruby reached him and David. Her eyes almost immediately landed on Emma and Snow and she stood motionless as the impact of the situation hit her full force. The dark-haired woman's hand landed over her mouth as she made a noise halfway between a gasp and a cry.

Killian watched as Ruby gathered herself quietly before taking a shaky step forward. She headed straight for Emma's body, a lone tear making a track down her cheek as she walked. When she reached the saviour, she knelt down next to her sobbing friend and placed a delicate arm around her. The pixie-haired woman pulled herself up to look at her new companion, her face crumpled and wet.

Another tear escaped Ruby's eye and she gently started pulling Snow up and away from Emma's body. The woman resisted at first, desperate to stay with her daughter, but as another wave of despair hit her she just didn't have the physical strength. Ruby pulled her friend into a standing position before enveloping her in a hug, letting the woman cry into her jacket.

Killian forced himself to look away from them, back to David who still had Henry in his arms. He was crying uncontrollably as he slumped against his grandfather's figure. Behind the embraced males, Neal stood quietly. His eyes were on his desolate son, the expression on his face equally anguished.

The pirate observed the situation quietly, unsure of what he was supposed to do. He wanted to leave and yet at the same time he felt an urgent pull towards the blonde lying cold on the concrete behind him. Killian turned around from David and the child and started walking towards Emma, feeling his own frailty in every step.

The sound of grief and despair contaminated the air, the emotion thick like smog. Snow's muffled weeping, Ruby's quiet sniffing, Henry's deafening cries, David and Neal's quiet moaning. The sky seemed a darker shade of grey, the light barely passing through the clouds as feint rain began to fall.

But everything was silent in Killian's head as he approached her. Ruby and Snow stood a few feet away now, the former still carrying the latter. When he was finally standing over her, he frowned. Of all the people he thought he would live to see perish; she had never crossed his mind as an option. He had always thought he would die before her because, out of all the people he'd ever met, she was the only person who had ever seemed invincible. Despite her feminine appearance and heinous internal scarring, she had always been the strongest in his eyes; the last person to be defeated. The notion of this woman being gone was so unnatural – it bit at his insides so his breathing felt labored and his stomach clenched uncomfortably.

Killian finally knelt down beside her, his knees hitting the cold hard ground with a soft thud. His joints and muscles ached as if to remind him of his actions only a short time ago. They were all for nothing, every step he'd taken to throw himself in front of her, everything he'd ever done was for nothing.

Looking down at her face, memories swirled in his mind; of her threatening him without mercy at the base of a great tree, of her bold attempts to ignore him as they climbed a stalk into the heavens, of her eyes following his every move while he bandaged her injured hand, of her observing him with regret as she backed away.

A strand of blonde hair was draped across her forehead. Uncharacteristically gentle, he reached out with his good hand and lightly moved it away from Emma's serene features.

The faint brush of his fingers against her face was enough to send a jolt through him – even in death she apparently affected him. Everything within him told him she couldn't be gone but the image before him was so contrasting that he silenced all his internal voices.

**REMEMBER YOU NEED TO **_**TRUST ME**_**!**


	4. Chapter 3: Not Dead, Simply Gone

**A/U Okay so, massive chapter - I know. Think of it as my way of apologizing for having such a long in between! I REALLY AM SORRY *hides behind King Colin O'liferuiner* Life has recently had a problem with my writing schedules and my muse was being temperamental...**

**Anyhow, this chapter was longer than I intended but – say la vie! I hope you like it and well… here we go!**

**Chapter Three: Not dead, Simply Gone**

Killian's footsteps seemed to echo in the early morning silence as he walked along the wharf. The sun was glimpsing on the horizon, spraying the sky with pink and faintly orange light. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and yet it afforded the pirate no satisfaction. He reached the end of the dock and crossed his arms over his chest, holding in as much warmth as he could in the brisk air. Small white clouds of mist escaped his mouth as he breathed slowly in and out.

Flashes of the previous day imposed his mind's eye, making him close his eyes in an effort to subdue the bad memories. He himself could still not understand why he should be so affected by her passing. The woman had only been in his life for a short month or two and their interactions had been limited. But something within him could at least acknowledge that those small exchanges had possessed depth; every time he had been in her presence, she had seen past his façade like it was glass in much the same way he penetrated her internal walls. Every conversation had edged along a precipice which, had they fallen off, would have made things much too personal.

They were too similar and consequently knew the exact chinks in each other's armour; it was a weakness neither wanted to admit. And it was also why certain lines had never been crossed, because the provocation would have caused such an explosion of personally designed affronts that neither would have survived intact. Wincing, Killian realised the error in his train of thought; they _had_ been too similar, _had _known the chinks in each other's armour. Killian looked down at the water, still consumed by his inner brooding. It was still so impossible to consider Emma dead, it was too sudden and she was too vibrant. The wraith should not have been her undoing.

Killian once again found himself visualising the great black thing hovering over her, drinking the life from her body as he kneeled watching – utterly helpless. Maybe if he'd moved faster, sooner, with more efficiency, she might be alive. But he should have known by now that wishing would not bring her back and it most definitely would not turn back time. He'd done enough of that after Milah's demise and he learned the hard way how analysing the past could affect a man.

For the umpteenth time that morning, a voice within him questioned his disposition. Why should he feel any sort of claim over her or sorrow for her passing? He had not known her long, he had not had any special relationship with her, he had not even really gotten along with her. If anything, Killian should have felt relief that one of the greatest obstacles to his revenge was dispatched. But no, instead there was hollowness to his movements, a look of desolation in his face that could not be explained or eradicated.

The pirate felt the air become marginally warmer as the sun began its ascent into the cloudy sky and the hues of orange and pink faded into the misty grey-blue. Even after the wraith had departed, the town had stayed covered by dark clouds. Storybrooke, it seemed, was openly mourning the death of its saviour.

Her body had already been taken back to her home where her family intended to prepare things. He didn't know what for – he didn't exactly know what they were supposed to do now. A funeral was so unfitting, or at least that's how Killian perceived it.

He let his eyes slowly drift up from where they had stared down at the dark water to the horizon. The sun was now fully visible and the bright spectacle of colour had fully dissipated. Killian took a deep breath in and prepared to head back to his ship where he would likely spend the day alone in his cabin nursing a bottle of rum.

Make no mistake; he still fully intended to seek revenge on the Dark One. It had just been shuffled to the back of his mind – dormant like a volcano ready to erupt once he was fully recuperated. His muscles still ached from their exertion the day prior and his head remained fuzzy from the extreme upheaval of unfamiliar and unexplained emotions.

Killian turned around but stopped, his eyes having passed over something strange. The pirate rotated so he was facing the rocky beach in the distance. There appeared to be three figures trekking across the pebbled shore. From where he was, he could recognize them as two females and a male.

Nothing about their presence should have intrigued him – for all he knew, they could simply be residents taking an early morning stroll. But Killian suddenly felt an urge to identify them, something incomprehensible prompting him to go down to the seashore. And so he turned around, but rather than take the route that led to his ship, he kept walking until he was on the road, headed towards the coastline where the strangers walked.

8888

The golden bell chimed sharply as the door was slammed open, nearly off of its hinges. It's tinkle disjointed rather than welcoming as the perpetrator entered the shop. He let the door swing closed of its own volition as he moved further into the room, searching for the owner. When it became obvious to him that the old pawnbroker was not around, instead of leaving, he bypassed the counter and headed straight for the back room.

Neal had only ever been behind the red velvet curtain twice, and that had been when his father had been dying and the day prior when he'd showed Emma the mark. The first memory was jaded by desperation and the hysteria of the man's imminent death, something that Neal had feared despite having preached immunity to sympathy for his father. The clutch of death usually brought out the best in people – in this case however, that statement had been proven indubitably false.

The back room was untouched since the last time he'd been there, when he'd been pacing as he awaited Emma's arrival. That morning, his mind had been consumed by what he would tell the mother of his child. His heartstrings tugged sharply at the thought of her and the inadvertent reminder that she was gone; lying unmoving on a soft white bed back at her apartment where her parents and son still mourned. Ever since Tamara's true intentions had been revealed, the dormant feelings for the blonde had stirred unwelcomingly – he'd told himself a long time ago that he wouldn't even attempt to regain her trust. And in his time in Storybrooke, she'd made it abundantly clear that she had no intentions of resurrecting their relationship. Nevertheless, his feelings had a mind of their own – growing in intensity every day he saw her and smothering him with grief now that she was gone.

Neal had left the apartment where she rested only a short while ago under the pretence of procuring food for Henry, entirely circumventing Granny's diner where people would have undoubtedly stared at the ex-lover of their dead saviour.

The sound of someone clearing their throat drew his attention from his inner monologue. Neal looked up, his eyes landing on a petite brunette to his left. She stood in the archway leading to another small room that looked to be the storage room for numerous potions. He recognised her as his father's girlfriend, Belle, he thought her name was.

"Excuse me, who are you and what are you doing here?" she asked brashly. Neal didn't bother with polite greeting; he was too far gone to care about etiquette.

"I'm Neal, Gold's son. Where is he?" he replied, looking around behind the woman to see if the coward might be hiding there. Belle stepped forward to level her gaze with his.

"I didn't know he had a son," she replied evenly, sensing the hostility in his voice and disliking that it was aimed at her. She hadn't done anything to provoke this man and so the anger was undeserved, it set her on edge. Neal looked down at her, surprised at how she was challenging him – he had never seen his father as the type to settle with a dominant personality.

"Lacey," a deep tinted voice spoke from Neal's left, making both him and the woman in front of him turn. It was Gold and he appeared unhappy at the notion that his girlfriend had interacted with his son, "Can you give me and Neal a minute?" Neal's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he watched her give him one last piercing look before strutting past the older man into the front area of the shop. Gold immediately stepped into the room and drew the curtain behind him. He turned around to address his son, but the latter had already begun a tirade.

"You had no right to do what you did!" Neal said angrily, striding forward purposefully, "and now she's dead!" Gold retracted at the venom in his son's words and looked down at his cane.

"It was never your decision to make! I was given the mark and _I_ should have been the one to leave town! If you had have let me, she would be alive and so would I and none of this would have happened!" he roared. His voice seemed to rise with every word, becoming more and more intense.

Finally, Gold cut him off, talking loud and fast before the man could continue.

"I did what I did to protect you and besides… I thought she would have a better chance defending herself. She has magic, more powerful than anyone realises –"

"_Had_! She _had_ magic!" Neal interrupted painfully. His father watched him intently for a moment longer before finally deciding to speak.

"Do you think her dead?" he asked curiously. The man felt his temper rise at the blatant apathy in his father's question.

"What do you mean 'do I think her dead?' She is dead! The wraith –"

"The wraith takes souls, not life. She isn't dead… just…"

"Gone," Neal finished, looking down. He didn't want to think about it – either way, there was nothing in this world that could save her. And with no way to leave the realm, letting hope light a candle in his mind would do nothing but hurt him. He had to let her go, but first he needed to apprehend his father.

"It doesn't matter what the terminology is. Either way, she's not coming back and that's a direct result of your interference… she's the mother of my child, Dad." His voice became quieter and he turned around to find something to lean against. He found a desk, the same one he had sat on when the man behind him had been slowly dying, and turned around to sit down on the edge. Gold watched him silently and waited until he thought the time was right.

"I'm sorry Bae, but you're the only thing in this world that I have anymore… Belle… she's not herself anymore. I love her but I don't truly have her anymore and I couldn't lose you," he explained quietly. Neal looked up at him and shook his head.

"You didn't have the right to make that decision for me or my son – Henry's without a mother now and you're _sorry_?" he asked incredulously, feeling the heat rise in his face as the anger washed over him in a surprising wave. Neal stood up and walked past his father and through the arch covered by the red-velvet curtain. The woman stood at the side and started slightly as he left, clearly having been eavesdropping. Gold followed his son and registered Belle's position and surprise at their sudden entry into the room, deciding to handle it later as he walked after Neal.

"I thought she would have been able to defend herself," he tried. Neal abruptly turned around.

"Well_, she couldn't_!" he yelled at his father, and then he spun on his heel and left. The door slammed against the frame and the bell looked as if it were on the precipice of breaking, its tinkle sharp and disjointed because of the force and suddenness with which the door had been closed.

Neal walked quickly away from the pawnbroker's store, trying to force his anger out through each step. He made his way silently through the streets of Storybrooke, trying to ignore the stares of the small number of citizens that were actually outdoors. The only sound was that of his shoes as they slammed into the pavement, a rhythmic noise that he concentrated on as he walked. By the time he reached the apartment building where everyone was still situated, he had all but let the anger flow out of him. As he walked up to the door he inwardly cursed – he'd forgotten about getting lunch for his son and tried quickly to think of a suitable excuse.

Shaking his head, Neal pulled the spare key to the apartment out of his back pocket and entered the apartment. It took him only a second of looking at the room to know that no one had moved since he'd left. Mary Margaret and David were still seated at the table, hands wrapped around their mugs as they spoke in undertones. He looked to his right where he could see through the flimsy curtains sectioning off the bed from the rest of the room. Henry was still seated on the edge of the bed next to his mother, hands clasped around her cold one as he looked at her.

The boy looked up at the sound of the door opening and gently placed Emma's hand by her side so he could shuffle of the bed and walk to his father. When Henry reached Neal, he immediately threw his arms around his waist and buried his face in his chest. The man put his arms around his son and waited for the kid to loosen his grip.

"Sorry I didn't come back with food, I just… uh, I got side-tracked," he said, cringing at the pathetic excuse. Henry shrugged and grumbled something in a croaky voice.

8888

The gravelly surface crunched under his feet as Killian trudged across the beach to where three figures were slowly becoming more detailed. It was most definitely a male and two females and one of the women was walking close alongside the man. The sun had risen higher now, illuminating the beach to the point that the white surface became harsh on his eyes. Killian squinted and put his arm up to block some of the light as he walked closer still. The people seemed to notice him and the man drew a sword and strode forward, one of the women did the same. As they neared, he recognised one of his oncoming attackers as she pulled off her helmet.

She too recognised him and put a hand on the man's elbow to pull him to a stop. He turned to her and gave her a questioning look, to which she replied with a shake of her head and an inaudible reply. The other woman caught up and the pirate immediately knew who she was, recognition was reciprocated in her soft eyes as she moved to the man's side.

"Mulan, Aurora. How did you get here?" he asked, stepping closer and putting his arm down by his side. The man, who he could now see was wearing heavy armour, immediately stepped forward in a defensive position.

"That is our business, pirate."

Killian shook his head and smirked in amusement, continuing his approach. "Who's this?" he asked, indicating the prince who eyed him with a mix of loathing and suspicion.

"I am Phillip and if you come any closer I'll be forced to stop you," the man, whose name was evidently Phillip, answered. Mulan put her hand on his elbow again and her grip pulled his gaze from the pirate. Killian stopped walking two metres from them and cocked his head to the side. The Asian warrior had exchanged some kind of wise words with the prince as he put away his blade.

"Hook, what do you want?" she asked articulately, taking the foreground. He let his smirk drop as he tried to search for a response. He didn't actually know what had driven him to seek them out and the question momentarily took him off guard. Luckily, Killian had become quite adept at maintaining a cool façade at time like this.

"I'm still waiting for an answer to my question, lass. Last time I saw your lovely faces was in the Enchanted Forest and I don't recall seeing you travel into the portal with… them," he replied. The sentence had begun as a smug statement and ended up reminding the pirate about her. His voice dropped off on the last word and he looked down as if bored to hide the lapse in his facade.

It was Aurora who replied this time, "We went through a portal and ended up here." She looked around her curiously and noticed the town in the distance. Killian realized they had obviously no idea where they were and looked up with a refreshed frontage of amusement.

"Well, welcome to a new realm my dear. If you haven't already noticed, this is not the Enchanted Forest," he retorted. Mulan shifted her metal helmet to her other arm and took a long look around them. Phillip still had his eyes plastered to the pirate and scrutinised him heavily.

"Where are we?" he asked.

Killian cocked his head to the side and thought about it: this realm didn't actually have a name, or at least not one that he had definitively heard. However, he did know the title of their specific location – but rather than relay the information he chose to fold his arms across his chest.

"What benefit do I get from telling you?" Killian responded, narrowing his eyes in much the same way Phillip did.

"That which comes from doing the right thing perhaps?" he countered.

"Oh, but these women should know I'm not the type to do the right thing."

Mulan frowned slightly and cut off the man beside her, "Actually, you are," she said. Everyone's eyes turned to hers and Aurora looked as if she remembered something. Killian's eyebrows furrowed before he remembered his act of decency at the lake. Phillip watched them all intently, waiting for elucidation. Mulan noticed his confusion and nodded to the pirate with less spite and more indifference.

"He saved Aurora's heart when Cora threw it into the portal at Lake Nostos. He saved her life," she said honestly, much to the surprise of Phillip. He turned to the other delicate woman beside him and she nodded in confirmation. The prince waited a moment longer, searching her eyes for any signs of hesitance before he tucked his sword back into his sheath. When his eyes met the pirate's once again, there was gratitude.

"I guess I owe you thanks, then," he said without bitterness.

"Speaking of Cora, where is the witch?" the Asian warrior asked, eyes quickly scanning the area for any signs of the sorceress.

"Dead," Killian answered, and all three people in front of him appeared relieved. Aurora leaned on Phillip affectionately, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. He put his arm around her waist and kissed her head chastely. Unfortunately, Mulan's interest had become invested in another topic at the dismissal of the prior one.

"So did Emma and her mother make it through?" she asked. Killian looked out at the horizon and nodded dejectedly. Mulan waited for him to explain and was slightly surprised when he didn't.

"Where can we find Emma?" she said. Killian flinched and looked down from the open sea to his feet. He bit his lip and took a breath, his reaction to the question raising concern among the trio in front of him. Aurora frowned and stepped forward to the dismay of Phillip and Mulan.

"Is she okay?" the young woman asked innocently.

"She's dead." Killian looked up as he said the words abruptly. Aurora stopped in shock and Mulan seemed to mirror her reaction as she watched the pirate for any signs of dishonesty. Phillip stepped forward and put a hand on the brunette's shoulder and Mulan ran a gloved hand through her dark hair. At that point in time, Killian made the decision to leave – he'd already witnessed the reactions of the blonde woman's family and he didn't intend to stay to watch more.

He turned around and moved to walk away just as the Asian warrior spoke up.

"What happened?" Mulan asked quietly, forcing the pirate to pause. He closed his eyes as he relayed the facts in as succinct terms as he could manage.

"She was marked with a wraith and it took her soul," he said harshly and started walking as soon as the last word had been uttered. It was silent behind him for a second and then the voices of all three people on the beach were calling out his name. The sound of the gravelly sand crunching under feet alerted Killian to someone approaching him and he turned around; it was Mulan and behind her Aurora and Phillip were making their way to him.

"Wait, she had her soul taken by a wraith?" she clarified and Killian looked away with a mixture of impatience and indignation.

"Yes."

"So did Phillip!" Aurora announced her arm around the man beside her as if to embellish the point, "He had his soul taken in the enchanted forest by a wraith!" Killian's gaze snapped onto theirs, moving between all three people to check for any signs of deceit. Phillip nodded when the pirate looked at him in a way that silently assured him that it was the truth.

"After the wraith took his soul we thought he was lost to us and then Cora hinted that there was a way to save him!" Aurora continued in a rushed voice, "And she wasn't lying! We saved him – he's just like he was!" She smiled at the last part and looked at him lovingly. Killian continued to watch them, unwilling to be played – to have one's hopes raised and then dashed was a painful plight.

"You're saying you can bring back someone's soul after it has been taken by a wraith?" he asked seriously, eyes darkening as he scrutinised each of them carefully.

Phillip smiled lightly, "If it were a lie, I wouldn't be here."

Seconds ticked by as they waited to gage Killian's reaction to the news. He kept his expression neutral as he internally debated whether or not to take their testimony as truth – he'd been wrong about people before. If it was the truth and her soul could be saved, did he really have any claim to the knowledge of how it was done – did he even really care? The latter question was answered when he considered the alternative; that they were lying and she was truly gone for good.

Killian didn't have a preconceived notion of care for her but the idea of saving her – bringing her back – seized him with surprising fervour.

"Come with me," he said, turning around and heading back down the beach.

"What?" Mulan asked, surprised by his abrupt change in disposition. Killian looked over his shoulder to speak.

"I'm taking you to her."

8888

Mulan, Aurora and Phillip looked curiously around the interior of the apartment building's foyer before they started the two flights of stairs up to her residence. Killian could swear he heard the prince make a comment about the small size of the castles in this realm and almost laughed as he remembered his own first week in this town. This world had been nothing but cruel to him – being beaten, hit by a car, shoved into an even greater car. Clearly, Storybrooke had taken a slow approach to welcoming him.

When they reached the door, Killian knocked thrice with his hand and waited for them to answer. He didn't actually consider that they might be aggravated by his presence until the door began to open. Charming had answered the door and as soon as he recognised the pirate, his stance tensed visibly. His eyes hardened and his fists clenched and Killian considered simply sending in the trio behind him without another word.

"What do you want, Hook?" David asked bluntly, his eyes never straying from the man's ice blue orbs. Killian held his gaze and tried to ascertain how he would explain his proposal without it sounding like a smug attempt to further wound them. "Can't you just lay off the antagonism until we've finished grieving?" the man said, his voice conveying just how intolerant he felt. At that moment, Snow came up behind him, her delicate hand pulling him back slightly when it landed on his shoulder. He turned to her, his face softening, and was about to tell her he would handle it when she noticed the three people standing behind Killian.

"Snow," Mulan said from the hall. The woman she had called stepped out of the apartment, past Killian, to the three people and was immediately embraced by Aurora. She returned the gesture feebly and looked unsurely at the prince. Phillip bowed somewhat and introduced himself. Apparently, Snow had been told about him because she nodded and attempted to smile to some extent. Mulan nodded solemnly and the pixie-haired princess returned the gesture before turning back to her husband. Killian had stepped aside slightly so he was to the right of the door frame.

"This is Aurora, Mulan and Phillip. We all met when Emma and I were in the Enchanted Forest," she said and Charming nodded comprehensively. She turned back to her acquaintances, "Come in." Mary Margaret walked past Killian and David into the apartment, followed – hesitantly at first – by the group of three. As they walked in, so did the pirate – choosing to ignore the hostile look that Emma's father gave him as he entered. He was responsible for bringing them there and therefore considered himself included in any further discussion that resulted from their arrival.

David begrudgingly closed the door, aware that stubbornness was a trait that his daughter had shared with Killian. Snow led them to the table where she took a seat and Aurora and Phillip sat opposite her. Mulan elected to stand and Killian moved to lean against one of the wooden supports in the room. When David reached them, he stood behind his wife's chair and systematically glanced at the pirate.

"How did you get here?" the woman asked delicately, putting her hands around a mug on the table. The steam coming from the rim suggested it was heated and she pulled it closer to her.

"We came through a portal after we saved Phillip," Aurora said and Snow nodded, ignorant to the implication of the concluding statement.

"Tell them what you told me," Killian said abruptly, drawing attention from both Charmings. Emma's mother frowned and turned to look at the couple at her dining table. Aurora smiled and placed her delicate hand over Snow's own that were still grasping the cup.

"Remember how I told you that the wraith took Phillip's soul?" she asked, and the woman in front of her abruptly tensed as her eyes landed on the man beside the young princess. Mary Margaret's eyes switched rapidly between Aurora and Phillip and David took her stunned silence as a chance to speak up. His attention was momentarily drawn completely away from Killian to the young couple at his table.

"What are you saying?" he said, despite the obvious connotation of the previous statement.

"There's a way to save souls," Mulan interrupted, "Phillip can verify it. He was all but dead up until about forty-eight hours ago." David turned his attention to the mentioned male, his eyes burning with the need to know whether it was true – whether it was possible.

"I can testify to the truth of what Aurora and Mulan are saying – I had my soul taken by the wraith and they managed to bring me back," he said reassuringly. David ran a hand through his hair and put the other on his wife's shoulder.

"How?" Snow asked desperately, leaning forward and moving one hand from around the mug to clasp Aurora's.

"Well, you have to go to Neverland and –"

"Excuse me?" Killian interrupted, his attention suddenly raised. He stood from his place against the wooden support and walked so he was standing at the head of the table looking at the princess.

"Saving a soul requires travel to Neverland," she reiterated slowly, and the pirate sighed. He could clearly recall his time in the realm that never aged and didn't sincerely like the idea of returning. That land, with all its beauty and wonder, was also by far the most dangerous he had ever traversed. It was any wonder he'd survived for as long as he had, but then surviving was something he excelled at.

"What's that look for?" David asked, scrutinising Killian.

"Not a place I'm too fond of is all," he replied smoothly, matching the prince's gaze with his own. They kept their eyes level for another second before the attention was turned back to the princess who began explaining how they managed to retrieve Phillip's soul. As Killian listened, he took mental notes of what to look out for when they would inevitably retrace the trio's journey (and secretly wondered what Deity was watching over them – Neverland wasn't easy to traverse on a good day, let alone two females alone and unknowing of just how lethal the beautiful land could be). He also began making plans as to what they would need – the journey would be rigorous and it would be dangerous, he would have to start topping up certain supplies immediately.

As she finished her recollection, all eyes turned to Snow who had sat totally engrossed throughout the explanation. She blinked and sat back against her chair. Snow tilted her face so she could see David and he bit his lip uncertainly.

"How do we know it'll work on her… magic is different in this realm," he said quietly. Killian frowned; of all the people he had expected might be cautious, David had not even been on the list. The man put on such a resolute façade, but even he wasn't immune to worrying about having his hopes raised only to be crushed.

"If there's a way to save her, we have to try," his wife replied quietly, and turned back to the three newcomers, "and you're sure that… it works?" Phillip smiled at the woman endearingly, nodding.

"If it didn't, I wouldn't currently be here," he said reassuringly, "I'm living proof that a soul can be retrieved." Snow nodded and turned to Charming again, who still looked tentative. Surprisingly, Killian found his hesitance aggravating – for a man who conquered a kingdom, he was acting awfully weak-willed when it came to salvaging his daughter's life. The pirate stepped forward, eyes trained on the prince.

"What are you so hesitant about? You have the testimony of three people that you actually _trust_," he said, "and you aren't sure? Do you _want_ to save your daughter?" David stepped around the table and walked so he was directly facing Killian. Anger tinted his features and his fists were clenched tight by his side. The sound of his wife softly saying his name was almost a warning not to lose his temper.

"I want to save her more than anything, I'm just making sure," he growled with conviction.

"Interesting, considering we haven't even begun to discuss plans yet," Killian retorted steadily.

"Why do you even care, pirate?" David inquired angrily. The question took him off guard and it took real effort to maintain his unaffected façade. Why did he care so much about saving her? The question bombarded his thoughts and it was silent in the room as he formed a suitable response that would sate the prince's query without revealing his still-murky feelings.

"As much as you all think I'm a son of a bastard, I do have a code… Henry doesn't deserve to grow up without his mother and besides, she didn't deserve to die the way she did."

Killian's words hung in the air as David stared him down. The prince was apparently appeased by his answer though, because he stepped back and made his way closer to the table. Everyone watched David expectantly, subconsciously awaiting a verdict on whether they would pursue the hope.

"What will we need?"

8888

Neal walked quietly beside his son as they made the short trip from Emma's apartment to Regina's mansion. Shortly after he'd arrived back from the pawnbroker's store, Henry had announced a desire to see his adoptive mother and since Neal wasn't inclined to deny the boy anything at this point, there they were on their way to see the mayor. Storybrooke was quiet, and thankfully the citizens had the decency not to stare the way they had when it was just the man by himself. Neal guessed that it had something to do with having the kid with him – people were content with staring at a full-grown man because he was expected to handle grief eloquently and with dignity, but a kid was off-limits because their emotional capacity was limited at best. Neal sometimes hated people.

Eventually, the two of them were walking up the path edged by perfectly manicured hedges to the elegant white house. When they reached the door, it opened to reveal the owner of the mansion; Regina. She smiled sadly at her son who almost instantly ran into her arms. Neal watched the exchange indifferently; he couldn't afford to feel anything else anymore.

As Henry pulled away from his mother, she knelt down and whispered something inaudible. Neal assumed it was a request that he go to his room as he quickly and quietly made his way further into the house and up the staircase that was visible from the front door. When the boy had left, Regina let her attention turn to his father and her smile dropped.

"I'm sorry about what happened," she said genuinely.

He nodded in reply, "Take care of him and call me if you need anything." Regina nodded in understanding before stepping back and closing the door. The mayor took a moment to herself before turning around and heading slowly up the stairs, preparing to deal with her son's grief.

When she reached his room, the mayor walked lightly in and took a seat next to her son. Henry looked up slightly when she sat down and leaned into her side where she placed an arm around his shoulders. Regina pulled him closer to her so she could put her chin on his head. They sat like that for a minute, and it was oddly comforting for the boy. It was while they were sitting that way that the Evil Queen recalled something that made a small candle of hope light deep within her. She considered keeping the knowledge to herself for a split second - that's just who she was, it would be a lie to claim she didn't have some benefit from the saviour being dead. But seeing her son the way he was ultimately crushed any hesitance to relay the information she had.

"Henry," she said softly, pulling back and looking at him with a silently hopeful gleam in her eyes, "I think… I might know something that could help Emma." Henry's eyes visibly brightened and he leaned in closer to his mother.

"What?" he asked, "What do you mean?"

Regina smiled outright now, already beginning to feel content at having made her son happy, "I remember my mother telling me something a little while ago. When she was in the Enchanted Forest she was trying to bribe a girl who had lost her lover to a wraith. She told the girl there was a way to save souls… and she wasn't lying."

Henry's eyes brightened, "So you're saying…"

"There's a way to save Emma," she finished. The boy quickly enveloped his mother in a hug, squeezing her tightly before letting go and standing up.

"When do we start? How is it even done?" he fired the questions rapidly, "We need to tell Gramps and Grams. And my Dad! We need to get started!" His excitement would have been contagious had Regina not felt obligated to tell the full truth. It would have just been easier to join in his delight, but he needed to know specifically what knowledge she possessed.

"Henry… Henry, wait," Regina interrupted, putting her hand out and grabbing his arm, "I don't know _exactly_ how to yet. But, there is a way and I will go through every magical document and I will interrogate every possible link to find out." His face dropped for a fraction of a second before it was lit up with something that the woman had sparsely seen from him; pride.

"You really are changing, Mom," Henry said.

8888

As the door closed, Neal turned around and left. He walked at a brisker pace now – since the kid wasn't accompanying him anymore, people would feel no need to curb their staring habits. It took him half the time to reach the apartment and he wondered what the Evil Queen would do with his son – baking did not seem at all appropriate and it wasn't like they could talk about anything of substance considering what had happened.

The sound of voices was audible from the apartment as Neal reached the hall. He quickly reached the door and entered the room, absentmindedly trying to ascertain why in the world they would have visitors and moreover what they could possibly be talking about.

Upon entry into the room, Neal stopped and scrutinised the people huddled around the dining table. Mary Margaret and David were on one side of the table and another unfamiliar couple were opposite them. Standing behind the foreign man and woman was another woman and each of the new comers was dressed strangely. And yet, Neal automatically placed them as having travelled from the Enchanted Forest – no one in their right mind dressed like that.

However, it wasn't their presence that caused his fists to clench; at the head of the table, leaning over a map, was Hook. He tapped the map in front of him with his good hand, his appendage at his side. Everyone paid strict attention to his words with the occasional input.

Neal closed the door and the sound of it reverberated enough to garner the attention of those standing around the table. Hook's eyes met his with obvious dislike and he moved to continue his apparent explanation. Mary Margaret and David nodded in greeting to the man in the front room as he let his attention fall on the strangers. The unknown couple smiled half-heartedly in greeting and the Asian woman behind them nodded in much the same way Emma's parents had. He moved closer to the table, picking up on the pirate's words.

"It will take us half a day to get from the entry point to Calcava Port. Once there we can get – what did you say we would need?" he said, indicating a line across the map with his finger.

The Asian warrior came to stand beside Hook, "Fairy dust, and lots of it."

He nodded in thought, gears already turning, "I have a friend who can help with that. After I retrieve that, we can probably bypass the mermaid's lagoon and head straight for the jungle that surrounds Lilith's Lagoon…" A bell suddenly went off in Neal's head; the landmarks being discussed were familiar to him. He knew all of them and it took him less than a second to place their location.

"Why are we going to Neverland?" the man said abruptly, walking until he was standing beside Emma's parents. He could now see the map on the table and the birds-eye view of the land sent shivers down his spine. Neal could vividly recall all the time he spent in the beautiful façade of a realm. Hook raised his eyes to reply evenly.

"To save the mother of your child," his attention was once again drawn to the map. He looked at it carefully and spoke to Mary Margaret and David as Neal stood in shocked silence.

"Should the boy come – and let me assure you that Neverland is a perilous realm – he will need to be concealed from others. If the lost boys catch word of a new child –"

"What? What do you mean – there's a way to save Emma?" Neal interrupted, having found his voice. The woman in mention's parents turned to him with eyes full of hope.

"Phillip," the pixie-haired woman said, indicating the man opposite her at the table, "had his soul taken in the Enchanted Forest and Aurora and Mulan saved him… there's a way." The aforementioned man nodded as if to support the princess' words and Neal frowned.

"And to do that… we have to go to Neverland?" he questioned. She nodded and Neal found himself seeking the pirate's gaze. Their eyes met and for a fleeting moment, they shared a knowing look. They both knew what traversing that realm would mean; constant danger.

"No offence to you, Phillip, but how do we know he's not lying?" Neal inquired, shooting the prince an apologetic look. Mary Margaret turned to face the two newcomers and her hand sought the woman he guessed was Aurora.

"Because, I trust them – we met in the Enchanted Forest," she said.

Neal nodded, "Okay… and are we sure it'll work?" Hook's eyes were trained on him as he said the words and he watched curiously as anger flashed in the icy blue irises. "I just mean… I don't want to tell Henry and have him get excited only to find out there's no use. Are you _sure_?" he asked again.

"If you don't believe it will work, you're presence isn't required," the pirate said bluntly.

"If there's a way to save Emma, I'm coming. I just want to make sure –"

"We are sure. Cowardice really does run in your family doesn't it? You won't even fight for the woman you claim to have loved," he spat in return. Neal felt a small part of him snap at the comparison to his father and stepped forward. Hook made way to meet him, his hand moving unconsciously to touch on the sword at his hip. Before they could meet halfway and exchange something other than words, Phillip and David were separating the two. David's hand pushed back on the pirate's chest as the previously soulless prince restrained the man.

"Listen, I know you're scared to raise your hopes but – listen – there is a way to save souls. Mulan and Aurora succeeded in bringing me back and there's a way to save your love too." Neal had his eyes on Hook as the man holding him spoke and was surprised to see him stiffen when the prince mentioned love.

Neal stopped struggling and Phillip released him and took a step back. David gave Hook one last look that conveyed all warnings necessary and took the same calculated step back that Phillip did.

"The only thing is," Phillip said, turning to address everyone, "you only have limited time. Should Emma lose all hope – as many souls do – then she will move on into death. Her soul will cease to exist altogether and her body will begin to decay. Until then, her body is safe and her soul is trapped in another realm." The room was silent as they comprehended the meaning of his words.

It was Hook who broke the silence, "If that is true, it is precisely why we need to begin preparations now and leave as soon as possible."

Everyone imperceptibly nodded in agreement. Yet, at the pirate's word, Neal found himself confused. It was as if the man before him was… consumed by the notion of saving Emma. And it didn't fit – as far as he knew, the saviour had known him and disliked him well enough. She'd also trusted him as far as she could throw him (but that was a tendency she displayed for all people she met). Neal watched Hook quietly as he continued to make plans, idly wondering what motivation he might have for wanting to resurrect her.

8888

The blackness was painfully thick and the air was like breathing through oil, thoughts lost meaning and significance, and numbness took its place. Shapes swirled until the blackness was more like fog, still there but fading; letting her surroundings finally take form. The ground was soft and the sky was grey and everything was still hazy as she felt her eyes regain their full ability to see. The emptiness above her was disconcerting and she moved her arms and legs to check she still retained mobility. As her limbs moved at her command, she sighed in relief and pushed herself into a sitting position. The ground was made up of a dark green grass and the field she was in stretched for miles. There was one defining feature to the land that took her attention – a road, dull yellow, that headed into the distance.

She stood up and was slightly dizzy for a moment, holding her head in an effort to maintain cohesive thought. And then, like a tidal wave rising up and crashing over her, everything became apparent. Memories flashed like lightning strikes behind her eyelids and she gasped at the onslaught of emotions they carried with them.

The woman looked around, trying to figure out what she was doing there – how was she even still in existence? Or was this the purgatory that so many religious activists had warned her about? Either way, staring at her surroundings, one thought rang loud and clear; a thought she felt was necessary to voice.

"I'm dead," Emma Swan whispered into the empty space.

**P.S. HOW CANON IS OUR SHIP AFTER THE SEASON FINAL!? AMIRIGHT? **


	5. Chapter 4: There's Change In The Air

**A/U Keep following and favouriting! This is the last chapter in Storybrooke.**

**Chapter Four: There's Change in the Air**

The shrill ring of the phone contrasted starkly with the silence enveloping the apartment. Mary Margaret and David sat at the table, making more plans for the journey that would begin tomorrow. After Killian and Neal had finished laying out plans to traverse Neverland – since they were the only two people having actually experienced the realm – both had left. In their designs, the group as a whole had decided that Mulan, Aurora and Phillip would remain in Storybrooke since their presence would only negatively affect their progress. The trio agreed and Neal had taken them to settle in at one of Granny's rooms. Killian had left succinctly following the man, mumbling something about preparing his ship for voyage.

With the apartment now empty – save for Mary Margaret, David and Emma's lifeless body – and silent, the sound of the phone ringing made the former woman jump. David moved to stand but was stopped when his wife put a hand on his shoulder and made her own way to the phone. He returned his gaze to the papers littering the table; maps and lists that outlined what they would do, where they would go, what they would need.

Mary Margaret picked up the phone, "Hello?" she asked softly.

"Mary Margaret," Regina answered stoically. The princess stiffened and waited for the Evil Queen to continue. "I called as soon as Henry fell asleep. I might have a way to save Emma." Her tone was brisk and conveyed just how much she disliked being on the phone to her sworn enemy.

"W-what?" Mary Margaret replied in a mixture of confusion and shock.

"My mother told me there was a way to save souls and I've been looking through some of her old spell books and records. I know how to retrieve Emma's soul."

The pixie-haired woman felt momentarily surprised before she realised the underlying kindness to the Evil Queen's actions. She felt a soft smile tug at her lips and hope blossom in her chest; hope that sins of the past might someday be forgiven. It was premature and it was unspoken, but nonetheless the small woman felt it as she clutched the phone.

"We already know," she said lightly, "some friends from the Enchanted Forest arrived this morning and they've done it before… but thank you." Silence answered her gratitude and she waited for the mayor to reply. When she didn't but the line stayed connected, Mary Margaret chose to voice her line of thought.

"Regina… why would you still want to help? After everything…" her voice drifted off, no explanation necessary. There was a lot of bad blood between the two women, actions having been perpetrated that would never be undone.

Regina took a moment to reply, "I may not possess any special affinity for your daughter and I certainly don't intend on forgiving your indiscretions, but my son is the most important thing to me. And he needs Emma to be happy; that makes her life something of priority in my eyes."

Silence encased them once more and Mary Margaret nodded before she realised the woman on the other end wouldn't be able to comprehend that response. "I understand," she said quietly, expressively less optimistic.

"We're making the last of our plans in the morning if you'd like to join us?" Mary Margaret suggested uncertainly and was surprised when the mayor voiced her agreement. As the exchange ended, Regina was the first to hang up and the young woman held the phone for a moment longer before putting it down and heading over to her husband. He looked up at her approach and gave her a look that questioned the identity of the caller.

"It was Regina," she answered, sitting down next to him and staring straight ahead. He immediately did a double take and grabbed her hand.

"What did she want?" David asked in concern.

"She called to tell us there was a way to save Emma… her mother told her and she thought we should know." The prince nodded in understanding and let go of his wife's hand so he could continue organising their plans into some semblance of order.

Mary Margaret turned to him as he shifted and announced, "I invited her to join us tomorrow."

David reacted almost immediately, dropping the paper he had picked up and turning back to his wife with disbelief. "You what?" he breathed in question, his eyes burning into hers with a look that questioned her sanity. The woman shook her head and ran a hand through her cropped hair.

"I… I figure she might as well be involved. We need all the help we can get and we don't really know Gold's stance on this yet. It's probably best… she'd be coming anyway if Henry's coming – don't look at me like that," her last words punctuated an incredibly sceptical look from her husband. She paused before continuing, grasping both of his hands and holding them with hers as she looked into his eyes with a naïve hope that was characteristically Snow White.

"David, she… I _know_ the woman who saved me is still in there. She tried to kill Emma once and she only serves to benefit from her being gone. But… she put all that aside and called to let us know there was a way. She can change – I _know_ she can," she said. David watched his wife carefully and finally nodded in understanding.

"Okay… but you do bring up a good point about Gold. We'll need to know his stance on all of this.

8888

The Dark One polished the glass cabinet absentmindedly, letting his musings stray far from the white cloth in his hand that he was methodically wiping the surface with. Belle wasn't around to keep his mind occupied; she'd left after he'd tried to salvage the situation following Bae's departure. Apparently, referring to her as the woman he'd once loved and claiming she wasn't who she thought she was had proved too much for her to handle. Or as she'd so eloquently put it, "I'm sick of you trying to mould me into your ex."

Gold let his hand drop and he sighed; he really needed to find a way to return her memories. Of course, Lacey was fun, and interesting, and dark, and desired the side of him that no one else liked. But he missed the woman who read books all day and had an unwavering sense of righteousness. He missed his conscience and his true north – he missed Belle. More importantly, he _needed_ Belle.

The sound of the little gold bell above the door drew him from his reverie with a sharp tinkle. He turned around, ready to shoo away the customer when he realised who it was.

"Good Evening Bae," he said politely, putting the cloth down and walking around the counter lining the perimeter of the shop.

"There's a way to save Emma." The man's words hung in the air as the Dark One looked at his son in a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"Excuse me?"

"There's a way. And we've started making plans… we're leaving tomorrow night on the Jolly Roger for Neverland. I want you to come with us," Neal said quickly, as if he were trying to get all of his words out before he could doubt himself. A smile tugged at Gold's lips and he took a step closer to his son.

"Why would you want me to come with you?" he asked honestly, maintaining eye contact with the man.

"We'll need all the help we can get and I'll consider it as your way of redeeming yourself after your role in her death."

Gold genuinely considered accompanying them for a moment, before he realised two very important facts. It seemed that his son read the emotions as they flitted across his face and he sighed in disappointment. Before he could turn around and leave though, the Dark One had his hand out – a movement that implored his son to wait a moment.

"Wait, Bae – I… you mentioned the Jolly Roger. For one thing, I don't think the pirate will allow me to board and the temptation of ending the feud between us – it will only interfere with what needs to be done. And besides, someone needs to stay behind and ensure the dynamic duo don't strike again in your absence."

Neal surprisingly nodded in agreement and silence filled the shop. As the situation became awkward, the young man made the decision to leave, nodding once in salute before departing – the little gold bell ringing in his wake. Gold watched him go and played idly with the gold end of his cane as he wondered how long the trip would take. He wasn't sincerely worried about Tamara and Greg; they were inconsistent and sloppy and when he caught them he would skin them alive for their involvement in the entire debacle. Just because he wasn't concerned by them, it didn't mean he wasn't murderous about their actions towards his son. Especially the woman – false love was a sin Gold deemed unforgivable.

8888

The heavy wooden door to his own room swung open and he walked leisurely in, letting the door close of its own volition. Neal still had his eyes downcast when he heard the shift of the wooden floorboards under new weight. His head immediately snapped up, eyes landing on the figure in the middle of the room.

"Tamara," he said, almost immediately looking for something to restrain her.

She smiled in response, though it didn't reach her sharp eyes as she scrutinised him.

"Neal… long time no see," she said with mock fondness. He winced and glanced at his hand, remembering the last time they'd seen each other; when she'd unrepentantly given him the wraith's mark. The glimpse didn't go unnoticed by Tamara and she stepped closer to him. Neal immediately put his hands up and stepped sideways – he had only recently found out about this woman's skill in martial arts.

However, she didn't move with precision the way she had the day she'd marked him. No, she was moving like a feline; swift and leisurely with undeniable grace. Her eyes stayed trained on his and she continued to close the distance between them despite his defensive stance. Tamara stopped when his outstretched arms would permit her to go no further.

"What do you want?" Neal asked, watching her carefully. The woman put her hands over his and shoved them down and he couldn't help but allow her. This was a woman he'd loved for a decade – she had helped him deal with his feelings for Emma. They'd started planning a life together.

"I want you," she said slowly, and took a calculated step closer.

He could faintly smell perfume at her proximity and it was as if the sensory perception snapped him out of whatever spell she'd cast. Neal had bought her perfume and he knew the scent and this wasn't anything he'd purchased her; suddenly, all he could picture was her and Greg. The bald man who was her ally and her lover – the same man she'd been having an affair with for at least half of their relationship.

Neal abruptly grabbed her shoulders and spun them around so she was against the wall.

"Don't try to play me, Tamara," he growled. Her expression stayed resolute though – still trying to sell the façade.

"I'm not… I left Greg after what he did to Emma. I never wanted to hurt you – you have to understand he's a very dominant person. I love you," she whispered, leaning forward despite his hands restraining her. Neal remembered something Emma had taught him and watched her eyes closely, waiting to see if she was being honest. Everything in his mind registered, from the growth in her pupils to the micro-expressions that crossed her face.

He paused and then fury took place of the hurt he felt at her deceit, "What are you doing here?" His words seemed to snap the act and her expression changed – taking on a mocking edge and her mouth shifted into a vindictive grin.

"I guess I can't play that card anymore," she said articulately.

Neal's temper rose and in his hazy mindset unwittingly found himself slamming her against the wall again. Her body jerked at the movement and the surprise on her face mirrored his own – he'd never been like this before. Tamara quickly concealed her shock with intrigue and her eyes raked over him.

"I wonder what Emma would say about this?" she taunted through her teeth.

"Why did you do it? After everything we've shared – how could you?" He could feel his voice rising and he leaned closer, his eyes searching hers for any signs of warmth. Tamara smiled coldly, her brown eyes uncharacteristically vindictive as they registered the emotions on his face.

"It seems I won't be getting any information out of you while you're like this," she said and paused before speaking again. When her voice broke the air it was filled with unprecedented malice and Neal found himself silenced by the foreign persona, "I never loved you."

He frowned as the words twisted in his gut like a blade and his grip on her loosened. His momentary lapse in pressure giving her the opportunity she needed – as she'd predicted it would. Using all her strength, Tamara twisted out of his grip; simultaneously knocking him to the ground in the process.

She looked over him, her boot on his neck, and smirked.

"Until next time," she said. And then she buried her boot in his side and walked away to the sound of him gasping at the pain. Neal heard the door to his room close and looked up at the ceiling, hands still clutching his side. He could feel tears behind his eyes and the lump in his throat while he tried to regain control of his breathing. The man swallowed the lump and looked at the ceiling until the additional moisture in his eyes dissipated. However, while he could eradicate any physical responses to the upheaval in emotions, there was no remedy to the horrendous pain he felt in his chest.

8888

The smell of rum and seawater filled his nostrils and Killian took a deep breath in of the familiar scent. He headed straight for his quarters below deck on the Jolly Roger, leaning against the door once it was closed. The pirate closed his eyes and let out a deep breath – he needed to sleep because he would require all of his energy to make the last of their plans for Neverland. He only hoped his night wouldn't be plagued by unwelcome memories; seeing Swan die had dredged up old scars that haunted him the night before.

Killian took a step away from the door and shrugged off his jacket and vest before pulling off his black shirt and boots. The man headed for his bed in the corner, unwinding his hook as he did so. When it clicked, he pulled it away from the leather stump encasing his wrist and placed it on the nightstand.

He let himself fall back onto the bed and manoeuvred to pull up the sheets. When he was comfortable enough, the pirate felt the weight of the day collapse around him and fatigue quickly overtook his body. It wasn't long before he was under the heavy blanket of sleep and his thoughts retreated inwards.

His thoughts coalesced into a watercolour of ideas until the familiar feeling of dreaming moulded his mind's eye. His dreams soon took shape: Killian was in a room – that much was obvious. The only problem was the darkness that fogged every corner and made it impossible to discern much. And even though the unknowing irritated him, he felt no desire to divulge what was there.

The light source was above him but even that was a foggy outline. It cast a warm yellow glow about his position and he could see that the floor was some sort of black mirror surface. The pirate raised an eyebrow to no one in particular and wondered what part of his subconscious had dredged this up. That's when he could swear he heard a voice and the vague sound of something hitting glass but nothing moved in his view. He shrugged it off as some creepy facet of his dream and continued trying to ascertain the purpose of this particular location; Killian had never actually dreamt of the room he was currently in.

The voice sharpened as it called out again and the pirate's eyes widened in recognition at who it belonged to. He looked down and closed his eyes, trying to ignore it because of the pain it would cause him to listen. But it was unrelenting, growing in intensity until it was an articulate whisper in his ears.

Killian felt cold sweat break out across the back of his neck and reached to wipe the perspiration away with his good hand. The movement was mirrored in reality and the pirate's eye snapped open as his hand touched his neck. He sat up almost immediately in his bed, breathing ragged as he shut his eyes and steadied the speed of the air entering and exiting his lungs.

_That bloody woman got under your skin Jones_, he thought angrily and fell back against the bed with a huff. His eyes trailed along the wooden boards lining the ceiling; his thoughts inadvertently returning to the blonde. He could have sworn he'd heard her voice, but then Emma had always gotten to him. Even in death she had an inconceivable hold over him.

8888

The fields never ended, as did the road. It stretched on and on and the problem wasn't that she was tired but that the monotony was maddening. Emma sat down on the side of the yellowing dirt road and lay back in the grass, looking up at the grey sky dejectedly. She still didn't understand how she was there or how she was remotely… anything. Thinking about it too hard confused her and she expected a head ache but nothing came – instead she felt physically numbed to all significant sensations. Her muscles didn't ache from all the exertion, her feet weren't sore from all the walking; her mind didn't slow from the lack of sleep. There was nothing.

Emma watched the blank sky for any sign of clouds or birds or life. There was nothing, and yet she didn't want to sit up. Staring at the sky, it was almost like sleeping – blankness surrounding her being.

Without warning, the saviour felt herself falling forward and closed her eyes in natural response. The sensation of falling through air stopped and she tentatively opened her eyes to find she was in a black room. It was dimly lit and she pushed herself up onto her elbows to she could scan her new surroundings. The place was warm and she felt oddly comfortable – an emotion that was foreign in situations like this. As she looked around, it didn't appear that there was much around and she stood up to scrutinise her location. For an anxious moment, Emma worried she might be in the mirrored room David had described – she calmed herself though, reminding herself that she wasn't under the sleeping curse, she'd been… killed?

She let the thought go because brooding over it would make her go mad – this entire situation was mad. Where the hell was she and what was she doing in the room? Where had the fields gone?

Emma turned around and the sight that met her eyes had her stumbling for a moment. Standing about four metres in front of her, staring directly at her, was Killian. He was bathed in soft golden light too and his face indicated deep thought.

"Hook?" she asked, walking forward. The blonde was very nearly running when her body hit some kind of barrier and her hands stopped her from kissing the invisible wall. Emma's thoughts were suddenly consumed by the idea that he too had gotten his soul taken by the wraith.

"Hook, how are you here?" she asked loudly, concern tinting her voice against her will. However, when he didn't respond, Emma took a marginal step back and scrutinised him. His icy blue eyes were on her and yet they were unfocused.

"Hook!" she yelled angrily, banging her balled fists against the barrier. He didn't respond. So she tried something else.

"Killian!" she shouted, punctuating her cry with another smash to the barricade. When he refused to respond again, the blonde put her hands calmly against the invisible wall and slid them up and down and around – trying to ascertain if there was a fault in the blockade. Her eyes stayed glued to his figure as she moved, unwilling to take her eyes off him should he disappear.

It became very quickly apparent that she had no way to reach him and moved back to the spot directly in front of him. She took the time to study him and was relieved to see he appeared as healthy as before – although why she felt relief was lost on her. His eyes stared ahead into nothingness and Emma was unnerved by them – a desire to garner his attention gripping her fervently.

"Hook!" she bellowed, "You annoying son a bitch, listen! Hook! Jones! For God's sake, _Killian_!"

He looked down.

"Please here me! Killian!"

Pain flashed in his downcast eyes.

"Killian!"

He disappeared.

Emma gasped at the suddenness with which he had evaporated and kept her eyes on the spot where he had been for a moment longer. But he didn't return and the blonde walked backwards away from the wall, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. Being so close to interaction with somebody only to be completely ignored hurt like a bitch. And she felt unreasonably angry at the pirate for not hearing her.

As she walked backwards, the saviour felt her surroundings fading into blackness and the falling sensation overtook her again. Bit by bit, the grey sky reappeared and she quickly sat up. Emma was back in the never-ending field.

8888

Henry held his mother's hand tightly as they walked, uncaring as to the 'mommy's boy' sentiment that many of his school friends had warned him about. After everything, he really just needed something to grip onto.

She looked down at him systematically, always checking his expression for any signs of breaking down. The mayor couldn't believe his strength at a time like this – his birthmother having been killed only two days prior. They reached the apartment quickly and Regina felt momentarily anxious; perhaps Mary Margaret's invitation was simply out of politeness. David would definitely _not_ be thrilled to see her.

The door to the apartment opened and Henry let go of her hand to run forward and embrace his grandfather. The prince held him gingerly and looked up to eye the woman on his doorstep. She held his gaze cautiously as she stepped past them, letting it go to glance at Emma's body on the bed behind the gauzy curtain.

Mary Margaret was standing at the head of the table, surveying their work. She looked up at the Evil Queen's approach and smiled tentatively in greeting. Regina nodded indifferently and moved to stand by her side and looked over the paper and maps.

"Would you care to explain all this?" she asked, motioning to the cluttered table.

"We're going to Neverland," David said, drawing Regina's eyes from the paper to watch him approach. Her eyes were immediately searching for Henry; finding him lying beside Emma's form as he muttered inaudibly. She let her gaze drift back to the prince who was standing on Mary Margaret's other side, indicating the map.

"That is all the places we have to go. We've started amassing supplies but we need an actual portal and since you're the one with magic here…"

"I have magic beans – the ones you tried to keep hidden from me."

"We gathered," David replied with a hint of bitterness in his voice. Just then, the front door opened to reveal Neal entering – exhaustion clear in his features. He shuffled in, letting the door swing back to close when a silver hook caught it before it could shut. The door creaked as it was opened again and Killian moved inside. Regina studied them amusedly, taking in the dark circles underneath their eyes and fatigue underlying their movements. She was further entertained when she noticed Neal turn around to watch the pirate enter, their eyes meeting with equal disdain.

"Hook, how long will it take to cast off?" David questioned, ignoring their silent duel. Killian's eyes snapped onto the prince and he smirked.

"The Jolly Roger responds to my every command so it won't take long to get going," he replied smugly. Neal rolled his eyes, taking a seat at the table and putting his elbow on the table to prop up his head. Killian walked until he was standing at the opposite side of the table.

"We were thinking of leaving this afternoon, will you be prepared by then?" David asked.

The pirate nodded in response, looking down at their carefully laid plans and smirking to himself. These people had obviously never been to the land – their plans would count for moot should Neverland decide to intercede. Killian was surprised Neal didn't make comment on it – the man knew as much about the realm as he did. The man sitting at the table pulled himself up, shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets and moving back towards the door.

"If we're leaving this afternoon, I had better go pack some things," he muttered, turning to catch Henry's attention. "I'm leaving to get ready, I'll see you this afternoon kid," he called to the boy who jumped up from the bed and gave his father a hug. The man returned the gesture and nodded to the rest of the adults, leaving immediately thereafter. Regina scanned the table once more, checking there wasn't anything of vital importance that she'd missed, before sighing and walking around the table towards Henry.

"I might do the same, Henry. I'll see you soon," she said, smiling and embracing him. She kissed the top of his head lightly before letting him go and following the same path that Neal had. As the door closed, Henry turned to his grandparents. Killian watched him curiously, noticing how he fidgeted on the spot – Emma's kid through and through.

"I need to pack too – I'll be in my room," he said, moving towards an open door to his left. The pirate assumed it was his room as the boy disappeared inside it and closed the door behind him. As he did so, Killian turned to Emma's parents.

"Well, I think that's my cue to leave you alone. Until this afternoon," he said, saluting them. Mary Margaret and David nodded in response and the woman said something to her husband unheard by the pirate. He seemed to agree and they started walking towards the staircase. Killian spun on his heel and walked to the door.

However, as his hand reached out to turn the doorknob, he noticed something in his peripheral vision. Killian let go of the handle, stepping back and turning to his left. He walked forward, eyes glued to the spot in front of him. He pulled back the filmy white curtain and entered the small sectioned-off room where the iron bed was. His ice blue eyes raked over her lifeless form, cocking his head to the side as he walked to stand right beside the bed.

"You look good, I must say – for someone who's had their soul torn from their body," he said quietly, studying her face carefully. He didn't really know why he was talking to her; the words had just slipped from his mouth.

Killian sighed, "Everyone is quite invested in saving you, love. You'd be proud – I'm even postponing my revenge for this." He stepped tentatively closer to the edge of the bed and lifted his hand to move a blonde curl from her shoulder.

"Bloody hell Swan…" he whispered, letting his hand drop. As it did, his thumb grazed the skin on her arm and it was like sending a shockwave through his arm. Killian felt a tightening his chest and a strange buzzing at the back of his head as he watched her. Infuriating woman still had a hold on him, even in… whatever this was. Death wasn't the proper descriptive word but she wasn't really asleep.

"I thought you left?" a young voice asked from behind him.

The pirate turned around abruptly, stepping away from the side of the bed as he did so. Henry stood in front of him, his head cocked to the side as he studied the man. It took him a second to maintain his composure; Killian hadn't much tolerated kids since the events in Neverland.

"Aye, I was about to leave."

"Why didn't you?"

Killian eyed the child and was impressed to see him unaffected by the obvious dissection. Definitely Emma's kid.

"I saw your mother and was curious to see how she's doing," he replied smoothly, glancing at the woman on the bed. Henry looked between the two and shrugged, walking around and jumping up to sit on the other side of the bed beside his mother.

"You're Captain Hook, right?" he clarified, raising his eyebrows. Killian smiled and felt himself stand a little straighter at the use of his full moniker – it had been a long time since someone had called him by his title.

"The one and only," he answered with a mock bow. Henry grinned and nodded.

"Did you really swordfight with Peter Pan?" the child inquired innocently. Killian's eyes darkened he shook his head.

"That boy was always too cowardly to face me. He always had his Lost Boys do his dirty work."

Henry's brows knitted together in confusion, "So, was Peter a bad guy?"

The pirate shook his head, "It's a bit more complex than that, lad." The child shook his head in reply, unfazed by the depth with which the man in front of him spoke.

"I don't think it could be that hard to understand," he said honestly. Killian smiled despite himself and scrutinised Henry; cross-legged beside his mother's body, eyes completely focused on the pirate in front of him. He shook his head and walked around the bed to lean on the end of it as he spoke.

"From what I know, Peter was abandoned and Neverland twisted him into a person capable of very heinous things. When a seer told him that a boy would be his undoing, he made her draw it and now spends his time searching for the poor child. When I went to Neverland, Peter hid behind his minions; the Lost Boys. But I wouldn't exactly say it was good versing evil when we were at odds. I wouldn't call myself good in any sense," Killian explained morbidly.

"I don't think anyone's purely good," Henry replied truthfully. The pirate watched him and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. The child had far too much insight for an eleven-year-old boy.

"I have to go back to my ship but I guess I'll see you soon," Killian said, walking back a couple of steps. When Henry nodded in reply, raising a hand as a half-hearted wave, the pirate turned around and moved back towards the door. When the door closed and the apartment was quiet, the child turned to his mother's form.

"I don't know why you complained about him so much. I don't think he's that bad."

**And next chapter beings their trip to Neverland – reviews are that amazing feeling when you get into bed after you've shaved your legs (my pathetic way of begging for your feedback).**


	6. Chapter 5: Cast-off

**A/U Muffins to all of you people reviewing and following and favouriting – I love seeing your feedback and it's nice to know you're liking the story so far. Keep it up! Oh and don't hate me *hiding behind Eddy and Adam* I may have a small something in here for plot development that you mightn't like. Trust me when I say it will come in later. See, all this trust? I feel like Killian and you guys are my Emmas. **

**And the journey begins.**

**Chapter Five: Cast Off**

"Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger," Killian crowed in mock delight as Henry, Mary Margaret, Regina, David and Neal walked up the gangplank. They seemed unfazed by the stature of the ship, but the pirate wasn't surprised – they had, after all, been on it before. Although he wouldn't deny feeling slightly disappointed for not being there to witness the young boy's first reaction.

David carried Emma's body in his arms and, once on deck, asked Killian, "Where can I put her?" The pirate motioned for the prince to follow him below deck. They reached a room with a small bed pressed against the side of the wall and David placed her gently down. He looked down at her for a moment before following Killian out of the room and back above deck.

As they entered once again into the cool sea breeze, the pirate captain took the opportunity to garner their attention.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, since this is my ship, I only think it fair that I make certain… requests."

David rolled his eyes, Snow pursed her lips, Regina raised an eyebrow and Neal simply frowned. Contrastingly, Henry looked positively thrilled to be on a pirate ship with an actual pirate who was now treating him like an actual crew-member. So Killian chose to address the child when he spoke.

"Do not, for the love of all that is good, touch any of the equipment without my permission or strict instruction unless you want us to end up in Davy Jones' locker. I've got food aboard but if anything looks inedible, let me know because it's likely been poached by seawater and you don't want to get sick. Follow my orders and we'll probably make it in and out of Neverland in one piece." They were silent and he took at that as understanding.

He was about to turn around when he remembered one more thing, "And be warned… Neverland isn't the golden realm you people seem to think it is." Killian unwittingly found himself sharing a knowing glance with Neal, they both knew firsthand the horrors that the beautiful land could produce.

At that, he turned around on his heel and strode up to the helm. Neal almost immediately headed below deck, patting his son on the back once before moving to the hatch. Henry smiled at his father as he departed and headed straight for the forecastle deck. Killian watched him with a smirk, enjoying the child's antics as he stared contently out at the sea. Mary Margaret and David elected to walk to the side of the ship, throwing the occasional check-up glance at Henry.

Regina stood awkwardly in the middle of the main deck before catching his eyes on her and moving towards the Quarter Deck. As she did so, Killian began manoeuvring his ship away from the docks. The mayor was soon beside him, watching his movements with idle curiosity.

"I take it you're not going to ask me to teach you how to sail?" Killian teased amusedly, the archetypal smirk tugging at his lips.

Regina narrowed her eyes at him, "No. I'm just curious."

He glanced at her sideways, noting how she gaged his reaction. The pirate had to physically force himself to appear relaxed; it was as if he knew the question she would ask before she asked it.

"What do you want to know?" he questioned, annoyed when there was an obvious bite in his tone.

8888

Henry looked excitedly out at the open sea, knowing it wasn't long before their captain would open the portal. The ship pulled away from the dock, hesitantly at first – a precaution with all of the surrounding boats and docks – before picking up a faster stride out into the open space. The front of the Jolly Roger cut through the waves like a knife, sea spray hitting him in the face when he leaned over the front and breathed in the salty air.

As he did, Henry heard his grandparents cry out in a mixture of protest and concern. Henry pulled back and turned around to grin at them in reassurance. Mary Margaret gave him a scolding look, silently warning him not to do that again. The boy chortled and the couple turned back to the side of the ship.

He too was about to return to watching the Jolly Roger slice through the water when his eye accidentally caught sight of Killian at the helm. The pirate moved with precision as he invisibly ordered the sails do his bidding and rotated the wheel. Henry recalled their trip back from New York and could distinctly remember the difficulty his father had experienced with the ship. It was strange to see someone controlling the Jolly Roger so effortlessly.

Mary Margaret and David watched Henry carefully as he stood there, staring at the quarterdeck. They followed his gaze and David huffed in what the pixie-haired woman could only explain as jealousy; having experienced Henry's awe, Mary Margaret could empathise with her husband.

She was surprised to see Regina standing beside the pirate, the movement of her mouth indicating that she was talking. However, whether or not Hook was listening to her was another question since he was concentrated on the waters out ahead. Her internal question was answered when he apparently replied to something she said, turning his head towards the mayor ever so slightly. Mary Margaret turned back to her husband and they faced the railing again.

His arm wound its way around her waist and he drew her closer to his side.

"It's going to be hard. I can see it in Neal and Hook's faces. They're not looking forward to it," David said.

His wife nodded, "I know… David, what if Emma gives up hope? What if we run out of time?" Her eyes sought his and he turned to her immediately, cupping her delicate face with his hands and kissing her lovingly.

"Don't. We'll find her in time and we'll be a family again – if Emma inherited anything from us it was her fighting spirit," he assured her.

"And my chin," she mused and then looked down, pausing before she continued, "But what if we _are_ too late?"

"Don't think about it; don't even let it enter your mind, Snow." He used his hand to lift her chin so she was forced to look him in the eye.

He held her gaze intensely, conveying all off his faith in the exchange. It was strange how they worked – just the day before he had been the one doubting their ability to carry out the plan and she the one comforting him. And now the roles were reversed and he effortlessly took her place as supportive partner. Mary Margaret kissed him once before settling into his embrace and watching their swift departure from Storybrooke's docks.

8888

"Mary Margaret and David are here because Emma's their only daughter, Neal's here because he wants to save the woman he loves, Henry is here because it's too dangerous to leave him in Storybrooke and I'm helping because I want Henry to be happy. The only thing I can't figure out is why you might offer to help," Regina explained calmly.

Killian kept his eyes on the horizon, pretending to be concentrated on the control of his ship. The truth was he could probably steer the Jolly Roger with his eyes closed and both arms tied behind his back. Nevertheless, he needed a buffer so his emotions weren't as obvious. This woman was just as perceptive as Emma when she put her mind to it.

When he didn't respond immediately, she sighed and leaned back against the railing lining the quarterdeck. "I just don't see you as having any motivation – especially since Gold is back in Storybrooke along with your illustrious revenge." The mention of his foe had Killian's jaw clenching and his fist inadvertently tensed around the wheel, knuckles paling as he gripped the helm in an effort to subdue his internal fury. The notion that the crocodile was still walking made his skin crawl, but for the time being it took second priority to saving the Swan girl.

Rather than reply, Killian answered her with a side-glance, "Shouldn't you be down on the main deck attending to your son?" Regina smirked and threw a glance at Henry, undoubtedly checking that the pirate was not subtly informing her of danger. Satisfied that the child was enjoying the sea breeze, she returned her intent gaze to him.

"Why aren't you back there – fixing your revenge?" she asked truthfully. The intensity of her stare made Killian turn his face to her fully this time.

"Do you ever wonder if this constant pursuit of revenge is the reason no one cares for us? When I have finally achieved my vengeance… I'll have nothing to look forward to. My life will be empty." He made a point of looking at Mary Margaret when he asked the first question and the Evil Queen's eyes followed his line of sight. When she saw the woman by the side of the ship with her husband her expression became closed off and she look down. Killian took the opportunity to turn back to the helm and waited for her to speak again – because she undoubtedly would.

He could see in his peripheral vision as she faced him again, "Well, that answers both questions," she said indifferently. The pirate's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Pardon me?"

She paused, "Why you've left your revenge behind and you're motivation for being here."

"I haven't answered in regards to my motivation, milady," he retorted, defensiveness edging his tone.

"But you really have," Regina said, a small knowing smile trying to make its way across her lips.

8888

The ships wooden interior creaked unceremoniously as Neal made his way into the depths of its interior. He walked along the small passage leading to the rooms, having memorised the ship's outlook a lifetime ago. Being on the ship brought back memories – not all of them good.

His hands were fisted in the pockets of his hoodie and he walked with a closed-off gait; head down, eyes straight ahead. The man wanted to do nothing but sleep until they reached the place where his life had been a nightmare – Neverland, the realm where he'd lost his childhood once and for all. The idea that his son was intrigued and belated to be travelling to the hellish world was disturbing. Henry knew nothing about the true dangers of Neverland, about the deadly reminders of morbidity that lay around every corner.

Neal shook his head in an attempt to eradicate the thoughts and walked past an open door. He stopped when he realised whose room it was. Turning around, he walked tentatively towards the doorframe and leaned on it as he observed the room. There was a cot pushed against the wall to his left and the room was almost completely bear, save for a bench built into the ship's wall. His gaze, however, was immediately drawn to the woman lying motionless on the bed. She could have been sleeping.

Neal walked towards her and knelt down beside her form, taking in her lifeless form for the first time since her death. He had glanced her in the apartment, but never enough to fully appraise the woman he shared a son with. Her blonde hair curtained the pillow and he felt himself reach out to tough it gingerly. He let his eyes drift to her face, serene and utterly expressionless.

The man found his eyes inadvertently lingering on her lips, their soft hue still managing to stand out against her pale skin. She was beautiful.

He leaned closer, watching her closely and smiling as memories flooded his mind's eye; running from a convenience store with a shirt-load of stolen good, aimlessly searching for a place to stay, her smile when he announced his desire to settle down. She'd been open then, very different to how she was now.

"I'm sorry Emma," he heard himself whisper lightly, watching her face despite the knowledge she would not react. "I'm sorry about all of this… I really am." Neal let his head fall down and he closed his eyes to take a deep breath. After all the denial and mixed messages, he was sure now. He loved her; it only took her being gone for him to realise that. And for him, there was still something there – something unfinished between them that forced him to hold her torch. It was why he suddenly found himself lowering his lips to brush lightly against her cold ones. It was why he felt his heart contract at the realisation that nothing happened. But then, he hadn't been her true love for a very long time. And she wasn't dead or under a curse. And the voice in his head making the excuses sounded oddly like his fathers.

Neal stood up abruptly, running a hand through his hair as he turned and swiftly left the room.

8888

Emma played idly with the grass underneath her; she'd stopped walking a while ago and now simply sat cross-legged beside the road. She plucked a strand of the dull green pasture, stripping it in an attempt to focus her thoughts. They'd been going insane ever since she'd returned from the dark room. The saviour still couldn't understand what had happened or why she'd seen him of all people.

It wasn't as if they had any special emotional connection. He wasn't family and he wasn't exactly an enemy – his presence had never antagonised her as much as irritated her. Emma threw down the blade of grass, groaning and putting her face in her hands. This was infuriating, what was she even doing here?

The blonde let herself fall back into the grass, looking up at the blank grey sky. She placed her hands over her stomach, wondering if she'd ever get hungry. So far, she'd experienced no fatigue or hunger. Emma suddenly found herself visualising a plate of Granny's lasagne and, hungry or not, she could swear she felt her stomach grumble.

She was so consumed by her inner musings that she didn't notice the silhouette on the horizon. It was only when she sat up again to continue her grass picking that Emma finally caught sight of the person in the distance. The blonde stood up and was quickly jogging towards the person – all reservations be damned. And honestly, what could a person even do to harm her in this realm? There weren't any weapons and Emma knew how to fight close-combat. Furthermore, for all she knew she was still technically for all intents and purposes dead.

However, when the silhouette began to materialise into a man she slowed down, realising that a man might be stronger than her – and judging by this guy's size that was probably true. Emma was shocked to see he almost glistened in the sun and quickly attributed it to whatever he was wearing.

The closer he got, the more she could make out his features – he had dark skin and a very large stature. The man was wearing armour and she immediately credited his origin to the Enchanted Forest. Emma walked closer, still trying to make out his facial features.

It was only when they were about ten metres from each other that she recognised him. The blonde stumbled to a stop as he kept walking, slightly confused as he made his way to her. She'd met this man before – sort of. Emma had to think for a second about what her mother had called him when they'd (sort of) met.

He eyed her curiously as he made his way forward and stopped about five metres from her.

"Do I know you?" he questioned, registering her expression and raising his eyebrows.

"Lancelot?"

8888

"Everyone below deck!" Killian bellowed, stepping away from the helm and moving on to the main deck. Regina followed him as he opened the door to the rooms below and moved to usher the people still above deck into the underbelly of his ship. Mary Margaret and David were swift in grabbing Henry and pushing him towards the open door and soon disappeared down the stairs.

The pirate turned to the Evil Queen before she could depart and held out his hand expectantly.

"I'll need that bean if you expect us to traverse realms, milady," he said eloquently. She met his gaze evenly and held it as she buried her hand in her pocket and pulled it out holding the opalescent seed. She placed it in his hand and paused for a second before turning around and heading through the door and down the stairs.

Killian closed the door behind her and moved to the side of the Jolly Roger, studying the bean momentarily before throwing it into the sea. It disappeared into the water and the surface where it had been enveloped began to curdle. The pirate rushed to the helm, taking hold of the wheel as the water dropped and a whirlpool formed. The Jolly Roger glided towards the portal easily and he maintained the ship as it began its descent into the writhing vortex.

It wasn't long before the tip of the vessel touched the purple mist of the portal at the bottom of the whirlpool. Killian closed his eyes in anticipation and felt as the wind rushed past him; for a moment he felt as though he were flying in a maelstrom of water droplets and rushing wind. And then there was a jolt and when he reopened his eyes, his eyes were met with a familiar sight. In the distance, on the edge of the horizon, was an oddly shaped island. He looked around to make sure and was greeted with endless ocean the colour of sapphires.

"Hello again, Neverland," he whispered to himself.

The sun was setting behind the island and he could see as the stars began to illuminate the sky; like diamonds flowering in a field of blackness. Killian took one last look around, savouring the quiet, before heading below deck. As he entered the hallway, David and Mary Margaret spilled out of one of the rooms.

"Are we here?" the woman asked. The pirate nodded just as Neal entered from another room down the hall. David and his wife turned to watch him walk towards them and Killian could swear the man looked sheepish under their scrutiny – he couldn't imagine why though.

The pirate ignored him and addressed Emma's parents once again, "Henry can come aboard deck now but once we hit land, he is not to come above deck for any reason. If anyone sees him here, the Lost Boys will be alerted and then we'll have an even worse conundrum on our hands."

"Yeah, I know," Neal replied, bitterness seeping into his tone. Killian's eyes snapped onto his and the tension was almost palpable as they glared at each other. The man had firsthand experience of the Lost Boys as a consequence of his past with the pirate and the implication didn't go unnoticed by the couple still standing in between them. Nevertheless, they kept their mouths shut.

Mary Margaret chose to break the silence, trying to garner Killian's attention again.

"How long until we get to land?" she asked. The pirate looked away from Neal, letting his eyes settle on the pixie-haired woman.

"Half a day. The sun's going down but the Jolly Roger can steer herself for the majority of the journey. It's probably a good idea to rest now because once we hit Calcava Port, the real adventure begins." He said the last part with a hint of sarcasm, turning on his heel and heading into a room directly next to the stairs. He could hear as David followed him down the hall and into the room.

"What about food?" he asked and Killian found himself oddly irritated by the impatience in his tone.

"Well, _mate_; I was just getting to that."

When he turned around again, the pirate was holding five small brown packages. David could now see that behind him was a shelfing unit that appeared to store all of the small food rations. The prince stepped forward gingerly and took the food from his hands, nodding in thanks.

He looked at the small parcels curiously and raised his head to look at Killian, "What's in them?"

"Food," he replied drolly, walking around David and heading back up the stairs without a second glance. The man was about to ask him why he wasn't having anything but then recalled that he didn't particularly care – he just wanted to get some rest and the pirate's temperamental disposition didn't concern him as long as they continued on their journey.

8888

Hours after everyone had eaten their respective dinner and retired to bed, and the ship rocked calmly to the constant thrum of the oceans waves and the only sound was that of the creaking wooden shafts, Killian lay wide awake. His ice blue eyes were glued to the ceiling as he mulled over a list of scrambled contemplations that he couldn't fathom into cohesive sentences. The pirate glanced haphazardly at the window in his cabin and was greeted with the sight of blackness – it was incredibly late in the evening.

He closed his eyes, even deigning to attempt counting sheep, but still sleep evaded him. Killian sat up abruptly from his bed and swung his legs over the side, pulling on a white cotton shirt that had lain on his bedside. He stood and, without realising it, found himself walking out of his room. The wooden floor creaked slightly under his weight but not enough to draw attention as he walked along the hall.

Killian walked until he reached his decided destination – although when he had decided that this was where he wanted to be, he didn't know. She was exactly the way he'd left her earlier when the prince had lowered her gently onto the cot. Her hair fanned across the pillow like threads of gold trying to weave their way into the fabric beneath her head. She looked peaceful, and he wondered idly what she was doing in the realm she was stuck in. He wondered if she was happy or if fear clutched her heart the way it did his.

The pirate kneeled beside her bed, still scanning her face for any signs of waking. For a blissful moment he could imagine her stirring, sitting up and raising her eyebrows at his solemn expression and questioning his sanity with typical Emma-mirth. His thoughts were interrupted as a wave rocked the ship particularly hard and he stumbled slightly on the spot. The same effect made Emma's head fall to the side and it was unnerving to see movement from her – even if it was caused by the ship's rocking.

"You'd better bloody not give up hope while we're on this voyage, Swan," he said gruffly, his voice coming out as chipped and he coughed lightly to cover it. Silence answered his words and he found himself inadvertently staring at her lips.

"If we get to that lake and you don't come back…" he couldn't finish the sentence, not because of pain but because he wouldn't know what to do. He had no threats or witty remarks to bestow on her lifeless form and there was more than one reason why.

"If I have to see Henry's expression like that day on the wharf again… I refuse to." The last sentence was uttered with a sharpness that sounded foreign, and Killian rested his head in his hand. He wouldn't bear that sight again; the boy's face as it dropped in grief and despair and for a moment the eyes so filled with hope were blinded by bleakness. At least she hadn't been alive to see it; Emma would have broken if she'd seen her son that way. Emma would have broken if she knew just how much she'd inadvertently hurt her son.

Because even if they saved her, no amount of magic could erase the permanent scars that were surely etched into the young boy's mind. There were only so many things that Neverland could make you forget, and Killian had first-hand experience that you never lost the memory of watching a loved one perish.

He stood up, not letting himself glance at her as he walked out of the room and back to his own cabin. He didn't let his thoughts stray remotely near to the blonde saviour as he settled into his bed again; purposefully distracting himself by listing the things he needed to do in the coming days.

Finally, sleep came.

8888

"So how did you get here?" she asked, motioning at their endless surroundings.

"Well," Lancelot replied, kicking the ground aimlessly, "I was actually about to go through a portal with my wife when… well, you know." He glanced up at her and shrugged, the metal of his armour clanking with the gesture. Emma nodded in understanding; thanks to the little lie-detector built into her nerves, she'd found him to be telling the truth when he told her who he was. Also, he'd made comment about her mother that had prompted her to reveal her own identity.

It was odd to be so trusting of someone, but then Emma figured she was basically dead anyway so it didn't matter much. They now walked side-by-side down the dirt road, asking each other questions to pass the time.

"How about you?" he asked when the silence became too uncomfortable.

The blonde shrugged non-commitally, "I took the mark from someone I cared about so I could protect the people I love and… it caught up to me before I could escape. Why were you and your wife at the portal?"

"We were trying to escape from the wraith after I was marked and the only way was to travel to another realm. We were preparing to jump in and Cora called my name, I turned around and… the wraith had me and I couldn't get away. I don't know what happened to my wife or the portal or anything after that really." His eyes took on a far-away look and Emma immediately discerned that his thoughts were consumed with his wife. She didn't prod him to continue after that, allowing him a moment to himself so he could ponder her. The feeling was all too familiar to Emma and she felt her own thoughts drifting to her family – what they were doing, whether they had grieved. And inadvertently, she suddenly wondered if they'd buried her.

The saviour stopped in her tracks and coughed to cover up the quick intake of breath. She had always hated the idea of being buried alive and she sure didn't feel dead. If they'd buried her and she escaped this realm, is that what she could look forward to? A short period of life before suffocation and blackness smothered her in a worse fate than the wraith's void.

Emma took a deep breath, trying to calm the gooseflesh that was subconsciously creeping its way across her skin. Her fingers trembled slightly and she clenched her fists to hide it as Lancelot turned around, having realised that she'd stopped. He immediately noticed her temperament; apparently his perceptivity wasn't too bad after who knows how long in the wraith's realm.

"What's wrong?" the man asked, reaching a hand out to grip her elbow. Emma shook off his hand, waving her hand in dismissal.

"Nothing, just thinking," she replied airily, walking forward.

Lancelot quickly fell into step with her, watching her face before deciding she wasn't going to talk about it.

"Did it hurt to take the mark?" he asked curiously. Emma shook her head in reply and felt her internal lie detector scold her for the dishonesty. She didn't feel like talking about that part of her demise – and her pride would not afford her the confession of pain to another person.

"Did Cora give you the wraith's mark?" she inquired. Lancelot nodded and the blonde had to quiet the urge to kick the ground – even from the grave that woman sent her temper rising.

"How do you know Cora?" he asked. Emma was about to reply when she felt the familiar sense of falling forward and her surroundings began to fade. She reached out for the knight beside her and felt him grip her arm just before the blackness bit out her vision and she closed her eyes as a natural response. The feeling of Lancelot's hand around her arm vanished and she opened her eyes tentatively, sitting up and looking around nervously.

Emma sighed, almost in irritation. She was back in the warm dark room that was about as well-lit as the seedy alleys in New York. Shaking her head, the blonde stood up and spun around. And just like the other time, there he was. This time, she was prepared for the impenetrable barrier, putting her arms out so she didn't face plant.

Emma stopped in front of it, staring at the pirate in front of her. He looked exactly the same but there was something in his expression, an underpinning of anxiety that pulled at something unfamiliar deep within her. The saviour dispelled the feeling with a quick mental slap and crooked her head to the side.

"If you keep interrupting me like this I'm going to find a way around this wall and kill you, Hook," she said in a loud and articulate voice.

"I'm serious buddy, I was in the middle of a conversation and you don't even have the decency to reply." Silence answered her, "Hook, this is not the time to decide you are done with me!" She slammed the barrier angrily and for some strange reason, the lack of response broke something within the blonde. Her voice was suddenly a lot louder when she spoke and there was an undeniable anger in her words.

"You're such an ass, you know that? Even back in Storybrooke you couldn't leave me alone! God, Hook! Even in death you won't go away! It's bad enough that you were the last person that I saw but now you're the only person I'm ever going to see other than Lancelot?"

And with exactly the same amount of suddenness as the previous time, he disappeared. There was simply blackness where he'd been standing and Emma kicked the wall furiously. She could feel as her view morphed again and prepared herself for the return to the never-ending realm with Lancelot.

She could now feel something on either one of her shoulders and it became more prominent as the dark room faded. It was getting lighter, her view bleaching until she was looking up at something. Emma opened her eyes, not sure when she had closed them, and found herself staring up at a very concerned Lancelot. He gripped both of her shoulders and she was obviously on the ground.

"Emma? Are you alright?" he asked worriedly. The blonde shook her head and blinked deliberately a couple of times to clear her head before she pushed him back to sit up. He knelt by her side, a hand still resting on her back as she coughed slightly.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I just – I keep getting this annoying thing where I… I feel like I'm falling and then I'm in this room and –"

"It's dark and warm and you can see a person you love?" he finished, eyes wide. Emma's blue-grey ones narrowed at him, brushing herself off and standing up.

"Well, I wouldn't say I'm seeing someone I love," she scoffed, looking back at him. Lancelot's face contorted in confusion.

"But surely it's someone you have a strong connection to?" he prompted in surprise at her reply.

Emma frowned, "Well, if you call the fact that he was the last person I saw before I got my soul sucked a strong connection – sure." Lancelot watched her face carefully and she felt suddenly exposed under his scrutiny, "What? Why, what is it?"

"Well, it's just… sometimes when souls are very close or kindred, they can connect across realms but it is incredibly rare. I can sometimes see my wife but if you say you have no connection to this person then maybe you're just kindred spirits."

Something about his words set the bells on her lie-detector tinkling; he wasn't completely lying though. It was more than that, his statement was almost like a half-truth – not black or white but a vague grey that made Emma's head spin. So she didn't pursue it; something she didn't often do when people were lying to her. Being candid was a trait of hers and to stifle it took great effort, yet some small voice warned her she might not want to know the full truth behind his words.

"Well, maybe we're similar but that's about it. I have about as much in common with him as I do a ship," she deadpanned. _Ding ding ding_, her internal lie-detector unceremoniously shrilled.

**Okay, don't hate me for the Neal-kiss. It's there for a reason.**

**Reviews are snuggling up under a duvet in rainy season reading books – again, the pathetic cry for opinions. It's becoming a thing.**

**Please stick with this – I know it's a slow build (and trust me when I say I'm impatient and I'm **_**writing**_** it!) but I promise it will be worth it!**


	7. Chapter 6: Revelations

**A/U Tension ahoy! Yes, things happen. Yes, I have an unhealthy amount of fun writing tension (especially between testosterone-fueled males)****. Yes, I'm introducing a couple of OC's (sort of, does it count if they're previously noted but not in OUAT? I don't know - meh) in this fic and here you meet the first one.**

**Chapter Six: Revelations**

"Is there a way to escape this realm?" Emma wondered aloud, playing with the cuff of her leather jacket. Lancelot smiled marginally as he replied, still sitting beside her on the never-ending road.

"Well, I think there is. I remember hearing about a way back in the Enchanted Forest and I'm quite sure I've seen it happen at least once," he replied. When the blonde raised her eyebrows in question, he continued, "You're not the first person I've come across here; there was a man – Phillip, I'm pretty sure his name was – and he sort of faded away after he heard a voice."

Emma's ears perked up at the name, "Was he in love with a girl named Aurora?"

Lancelot's eyes snapped on to hers and he grinned, "How did you know that?" The blonde shook her head in respite.

"I met Aurora when I was in the Enchanted Forest and she told me about what happened to him. So… if he did than there must be a way to be saved," she said hopefully, pursing her lips in thought. The knight watched her intently, his smile broadening slightly as he observed her sudden optimism. When she noticed his gaze, Emma turned to face him and the small smile that had been pulling at the corners of her mouth vanished as she narrowed her eyes, immediately aware of his scrutiny, "What?"

He shook his head softly, "It's just good to see you hopeful for once. I've seen a lot of people lose hope in here." There was a pained looked that crossed his eyes that made Emma pause.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

It was a moment before he replied, "I've seen a lot of people come through here – this realm, I mean. But, all of them, except Phillip, have disappeared after they gave up. It was always after they gave up. I think the only reason _we're_ still here is because we have hope… or something like that. That's why it's so empty - because no one usually stays."

It was an awfully morbid thought, that the reason the field they sat in was so desolate was that people simply refused to be optimistic. The notion that countless people had essentially _chosen_ to die was unnerving and sent shivers up Emma's spine. Perhaps it was one of the driving forces to the wraith's power. Nevertheless, the blonde found herself surveying the empty field with a feeling of disappointment. She could only imagine how many people had sat where she was, in the same situation, and simply stopped hoping. It wasn't precisely a foreign idea, Emma had given up hope numerous times in her past but the consequences of that had always been so minor.

Here, giving up meant certain death. But maintaining hope meant uncertain solitude in the monotonous field. Lancelot's voice brought her back to the present.

"I hold out hope that my wife will find a way because I'm absolutely sure there is… there always is."

Emma frowned, "Yeah, I bet my family's probably in the middle of another Operation Cobra right now if they've got any idea about it." Lancelot looked at her, silently questioning the reference to the mission that she and her son had undertaken what felt like eons ago. Emma smiled to herself, thinking about all the secret codes that she had developed with Henry. That kid really had brought out her childish tendencies, coaxing the twelve-year-old within; not that she'd ever truly been given the opportunity to act her age as a tween. So, in a way, it was sort of like making up for lost time.

"Don't even ask," she said in answer to his look and he smiled gently. He looked straight ahead then, his eyes glazing over as his face took on a forlorn appearance. It was not a difficult conclusion to make that his thoughts were once again consumed by his wife and so Emma let the silence stretch on. She wondered what he did when he saw her in the dark room – whether he tried to reach her, crashing into the invisible wall with renewed fervour each time. Or perhaps he simply spoke to her, imagining the way she might reply.

Emma admitted it would be interesting if Hook ever replied, although what she would even say was lost to her. It was more than just unnerving to scream relentlessly at him and receive no response, it kind of hurt – not that she would ever admit it to anyone. But judging by his ability to read her, he'd probably be able to tell if they ever met again. It was strange how he could circumvent all her internal barriers so effortlessly. The pirate with the piercing blue eyes and a knack for innuendos was adept at getting under her skin; a skill that was rather rare among the people in Emma's life.

She could still recall the way he'd studied her, like a foreign species, as they'd climbed the beanstalk. The way his eyes took on an almost sympathetic edge as he relayed his perceptions about her history with abandonment, the way they narrowed in disbelief when she claimed to have never felt love, the way they closed off when she'd mentioned Milah –

"Emma?" Lancelot's voice broke through her reverie and Emma's mind snapped to attention, turning to him looking somewhat like a dazed woodland creature. His eyes softened as he scanned her expression, "what were you thinking about?"

"Uh, I – I was… nothing," Emma stuttered, "nothing really," she repeated in an attempt to brush it off despite the fact that she felt very much like an insect under a magnifying glass. She shrugged and looked back at her hands but his gaze stayed on her. She turned to him and shrugged, "What?"

"Nothing – it's just… you looked nostalgic – never mind," he said.

8888

Sun streamed through the small window into Killian's cabin, lighting a patch at the foot of his bed and warming his bare feet under the covers. The pirate stirred at the strange sensation and shifted under the thick duvet. His eyes fluttered slightly before opening, taking in his room and pushing himself up so he could get out of bed. Arms outstretched, Killian yawned tiredly; he'd had another of the dreams where he was in the dark room, Emma's voice taunting him like wind through the leaves. And just like the first time, he'd woken up in a sweat, cursing her unwavering grip on him.

The pirate walked to his dresser, pulled on a black shirt and his trademark black leather coat and moved to the door. He shrugged into his leather boots quickly before making his way out onto the deck, immediately grateful he'd put on the jacket – it was brisk (and that was putting it lightly).

Killian jumped up and down slightly on the spot to warm himself up, frowning at the encroaching land. The Jolly Roger continued to sail towards Calcava Port and he expected they would be there within the hour. The familiar dock flashed in his mind's eye, and he recalled his last journey to the place. It had been a very dark time in his life.

"What are you doing up this early?" a gruff voice questioned from behind him.

Killian turned around and his expression hardened when he took in the man before him. Neal's hands were fisted in his pockets as he walked closer to the pirate.

"I could ask you the same question," he retorted sarcastically, striding towards the Quarterdeck.

"Why do you hate me?"

The question made Killian pause at the foot of the stairs, the question hanging in the air like an explosive waiting to detonate should he prod it the wrong way. He turned around; face impassive though the tension between them seemed to be mounting by the second.

"If anything, _I_ should hate _you_ – you sent me to the Lost Boys and all but destroyed my life. And don't spout some bullshit about my Dad because I know that's not it; if it was, than you would have treated me a lot differently the last time we were on this ship together. So why do you hate me?" Neal said stepping forward as his gaze burned into the pirate. Their breath escaped their mouths in succinct white wisps, a testament to the temperature and the rapidly rising strain between the men. Killian's ice blue eyes met the man's stare evenly and he narrowed his eyes. The emotion slid back into his features, tinting them to display pure resentment.

"I have no affinity for your previous treatment of the mother of your child," he said simply. Neal groaned in irritation and pulled his hands out of his jacket pockets, putting them forward as if imploring the pirate to understand.

"I never wanted her to take the damn mark, Hook. I tried to stop her –"

"That is not what I was referring to," Killian cut him off, a biting edge in his tone. The man's eyebrows shot up at the revelation and he seemed to stare more closely at the pirate.

"What? How do you know what happened between Emma and I? What did she tell you?" The obvious possessiveness in his tone made Killian smirk, the underpinning of jealousy was as clear as if he had just demanded the pirate reveal the extent of their association. He ran his hand through his raven hair, thoroughly enjoying the discomfort etched in the man opposite him's features.

"Oh, the lass and I have shared much in our short time," he responded smugly. The effect of his comment resounded immediately with Neal, who advanced forward with wrath in his step. He stopped just centimetres in front of the pirate, eyes burning with antagonism. Killian held his gaze, staring him down with equal abhorrence.

"I warn you, boy, don't spar with a pirate," he hissed through his teeth. Neal took a marginal step back, standing straighter and clenching his fists in an effort to subdue the cyclone of angry thoughts harassing his mind. Killian's lips quirked slightly in amusement – the minute action a catalyst for the man's ensuing words.

"Emma would never have told you, you probably just read into it. She never trusted you and for good reason!" Neal growled. The smirk evaporated from the pirate's face to reveal unadulterated loathing. He subconsciously felt his good hand touch on his sword, not grasping it but hovering around the hilt like a snake raising its head to strike. Neal noticed the action and raised his eyebrows in humourless disbelief.

"What? You're going to run me through for telling the truth? God, you're exactly like my father –"

"I am _nothing_ like him," Killian snapped, his eyes flashing darkly.

Neal stepped back and put his arms out in a shrug, "You know what? I don't care; I'm just here to save the mother of my child." He turned around to leave.

Had the pirate allowed him to retreat below deck, there may never have been a quarrel. Perhaps they would have continued the journey without another altercation; perhaps they might have even made peace sooner rather than later. But something in Killian, a voice that had emerged after Milah's death, pushed him to speak. And it didn't matter that this was her son; he wanted to hurt this man.

"_You_ killed her," he jeered. Almost automatically, Neal spun on his heel and advanced towards the pirate.

"I did _not_!" he yelled ardently.

"You may not have taken her soul but you are the reason she is lying motionless on a dirty cot! I don't know what in Calypso's name you did to her, but because of you she refused to trust anyone – not even when her life depended on it!" he paused to take a sharp breath, "You might as well have thrust a dagger into her chest yourself!" Killian growled.

"She didn't trust you because you're a pirate and a bastard! You tear apart families, Hook – and you expect people to trust you?" He scoffed mirthlessly, "Really?"

"She certainly trusted me enough to reveal she had loved once – pivotal word in the statement being '_once'_! Quite frankly, I don't understand your motive – she'll never love you again after whatever the bloody hell you did to her!"

Killian's head was jarred backwards with the impact of the hit and he could feel the red mark blossom on his chin. His hand sought it out immediately, rubbing it as he returned to facing Neal whose face quivered with fury. The punch was like kindle to a flame, forcing the tension to burn brighter with every breath.

"At least I actually have a shot with happiness again – revenge has twisted you into the person you once hated… My mother would be so disappointed in you." The words were like a knife twisting into Killian's abdomen and he wondered if it registered on his face, just before he pulled back his fist and slammed it into Neal's nose. The man fell unceremoniously to the ground – just as the hatch to the cabin's below opened and Charming and Snow emerged.

Both individuals registered the scene before them in a split second and the latter was immediately beside the man on the deck, helping him into a sitting position as Charming strode towards the pirate.

"What happened?" he accused, pointing at Neal who had all but shoved Mary Margaret away from him and was now glaring at Killian. The pirate's smirk returned, though it was without warmth, and he flexed his fist provokingly.

"Nothing of importance, there should be a rag somewhere below deck – you can use it to wipe up his blood. I'll be at the helm," he said succinctly, his black coat flapping as he turned around and headed up to his announced destination. Charming blinked twice, shaking his head and turning to Neal. He was standing up, his hand clutching his nose that bled profusely. Mary Margaret stood awkwardly to the side with her arms crossed and shared a brief glance with her husband before quietly returning below deck.

Charming approached, repeating his question in a more diplomatic tone, "What happened?"

Neal shook his head and snapped, "Nothing. Don't worry about it."

8888

Regina woke to the sound of raised voices above her head and quickly attributed it to two of the males aboard. She wiped her eyes groggily, rolling out of the small makeshift bed and standing up. Her black hair was a mess and she moved her hand up to magically flatten it. However, as she attempted the small spell, nothing happened. Regina groaned; clearly, Neverland wasn't exactly accommodating to magic (no wonder Gold had refused to accompany them). She hastily ran her fingers through her short mane in an attempt to tame it before looking around the empty room. _Empty?_

Regina scanned the room again – yep, Henry wasn't there. She sighed, pulling on her boots and walking out of the room. She had just exited her room when Mary Margaret and David shuffled past her in the hallway and proceeded to go above deck. The yelling had stopped but it sounded as if someone had just hit the deck and Regina mentally wagered that Neal had thrown the first punch (Neal had a shorter temper and the pirate had probably been called every name under the sun – it would take an incredibly selective insult to get a rise out of him), although it was strange that Hook should hit the deck after being hit; surely he'd been dealt much worse blows.

She shrugged indifferently to herself and walked down the hall to where she was sure she would find her son. As she reached the small room, his voice lingered out the door way quietly.

"I'm going to be a hero for once, Mom," Henry's voice whispered. The mayor smiled softly at her son's chivalry and popped her head around the corner before entering the room. The small boy sat on the edge of Emma's cot and he raised his head when he heard his adoptive mother enter.

"Morning Mom," he said, smiling brightly despite the earliness of the hour.

"How long have you been here?" she replied curiously, a delicate hand reaching out to rub his shoulder. Henry glanced back at the blonde woman and his smile lost some of its glow.

"A little while… I thought that maybe, if she heard someone she loves, it might help her stay hopeful," he said. Regina cocked her head to the side with a sympathetic smile.

"Well, how about you go and get some breakfast – we're nearly at Calcava Port, I think," she said, ruffling his hair when he stood up. Henry nodded and mumbled a goodbye to his comatose mother before leaving the room. The Evil Queen stood there for a while after he departed, simply watching the blonde for any signs of life. Regina heard the door to the deck open and close softly as she stood there, contemplating the complexity of the entire situation.

This woman had been nothing but a burden on the mayor's life; she should feel satisfied by her death but such a response was yet to arrive – she had most definitely benefited from the saviour's demise, but that hadn't yet equated to gratification.

Regina heard the door to the main deck open and slam shut again, abruptly followed by loud footsteps. She watched the doorway to see who had returned from the deck above and was surprised to see Neal stride past with a bloodied nose. _Hm, the pirate was the one to make the first punch – surprising_, she thought to herself.

She turned to Emma again, a knowing smile gracing her scarlet lips. Inevitably, the men's argument had regarded the woman currently motionless on the cot.

Regina sighed, "You're not even here and you're still making messes, Ms Swan. I just hope once we get you back, you have the decency to sort it out without involving our son."

She paused, biting her lip, "I truly am surprised by your involvement with the pirate – but then I haven't actually received your opinion have I? He's here because he wants purpose and that, my dear, refers to you. Although, he's about as ready to admit that as I am to admit I was acting irrationally when I attempted to kill you..."

The Evil Queen chuckled once dryly, her lips thinning into a line. She shook her head, "As for Neal, he obviously still loves you. And he despises Hook, so that's interesting… They have history – Neal and Hook – and it's not a good one."

The door to the main deck opened and shut for the third time, somehow prompting the mayor to register that she was speaking to someone unable to respond. _And someone who ruined your life_, the dark voice deep in the pits of her mind growled. She snapped the door to that voice shut, shaking her head and silently questioning her sanity. Embarrassment resonated from the Queen as she stood awkwardly for a second in the middle of the room with her arms crossed. It was another second before she abruptly left the room, her head downcast and eyes on the floor.

8888

Killian didn't recall Calcava Port being nearly as dirty as what he currently witnessed. The pirate walked along the dilapidated cobblestone street, glancing around his surroundings with half-hearted pity. The last time he had been there it had been at least remotely respectable – not now though, with the Lost Boys wreaking havoc in search for their boy. It was why Killian walked alone, leaving the rest of his companions on the ship with strict orders to keep Henry below deck and hide him by all means possible should a band of the Lost Ones come knocking.

Henry didn't understand yet, still under the impression that this land was simply beautiful despite warnings by the pirate and the young boy's father that this was no paradise. It had surprised Killian to a degree, how fervently Neal had agreed with him after they reached port. They had even shared a knowingly look for a millimetre of a second, and then the events of the morning seemed to simultaneously crash down on their memories and the glance was swept away with cold indifference.

The pirate wasn't completely pleased about leaving them all back on the Jolly Roger for more reasons than one but their choices were severely limited by fate's design. It was unlikely they would reach trouble just yet; the Lost Boys usually took a while to notice new inhabitants so their safety window was still wide-open.

Finally, Killian reached his desired destination – a beaten-down old inn that looked like it had been half-burnt down and smelt overtly of urine. The sign above read 'The Inn,' and Killian smirked at the owner's originality. _Oh well, _he thought amusedly, _at least he isn't hiding behind a pretence of sophistication_. He pulled the hood of his black cloak over his head, tugging it forward to shield his features, before pushing open the wooden door.

The urine smell seemed to increase tenfold as he entered and he coughed lightly to cover his reaction. The pirate hadn't been subject to such sensory assault for a long time. The lighting in the pub was dim and it took him a moment to adjust to it before scanning the place for his contact. His lips spread into a grin when he recognised the dark black hair pulled back in a loose ratty ponytail, strands of grey serving as a reminder of his age. Killian couldn't see his face, but when the man at the bar slammed down his mug of ale and demanded another, he knew it was the gentleman he was searching for.

Killian strolled over to the seat beside him, genuinely eager to gage his old friend's reaction. The pirate tapped the drunkard's shoulder with his good hand; if he used his hook, his identity would be broadcast to anyone with eyes and he didn't particularly want his presence to be widely known just yet.

The man turned to face him, his scraggly beard brushing past the mug in his hand. It looked awfully unsanitary but then, Killian had seen this man do a lot worse. His muddy brown eyes lit up in recognition and his lips spread to grin in a show of yellow and brown teeth.

"Killian, my boy!" he crowed, slapping the pirate on the back who returned the smile and grasped his friend's arm good-naturedly. Luckily for Killian, nobody in the bar would recognise his name or look twice at the call – the vast majority of people in Neverland knew him by his moniker.

"Blackbeard."

"Well, it's been a while since I've actually had a black beard but the name sticks," he chuckled, leaning back and surveying Killian, "You look alright."

"And you look like cat piss," he retorted fondly and leaned on the bar. Blackbeard nodded in agreement and took a swig of his beverage, some of the hairs around his mouth picking up the liquid. The old man wiped his mouth with his forearm to remove the residue and sighed. His breath was foul and Killian coughed again at the smell.

"Mate, when's the last time you brushed your teeth?" he asked.

Blackbeard guffawed, "You always were a pretty boy, Killian. Always a pretty boy. So, what are you doing here?"

The reminder of his task quickly slapped the smile off the pirate's face and his expression became serious. Blackbeard noticed his visible change in demeanour and set down the mug in his hand gently, his smile dropping too.

"What do you need?" he asked automatically.

"Fairy dust."

"Why don't you –"

"Ask them? You should know, Blackbeard – I haven't been on good terms with the fairies for a _very_ long time," Killian said and his friend nodded.

"What do you need it for?" Blackbeard inquired, curiosity shading his features as he took a calculated sip of rum. The pirate's eyes narrowed slightly, a natural reflex to prying questions he had developed after Milah's death. He had to firmly remind himself that this man had once been his captain and had earned his trust a long time ago. Blackbeard sensed his hesitance and smirked.

"For someone who used to be my first mate, you've become a bit of a half-wit; delayed answers to your captain? I'm disappointed, boy," he said affably.

Killian returned the smirk, "I haven't been your first mate for a long time, old man." His answer earned him a chuckle from the dishevelled man beside him and they were silent for a long moment.

"So? What is it that you require the fairy dust for?" Blackbeard asked again, eyes on his mug this time. Killian's eyes were unfocused as he relayed his reasoning, as if visualising each individual facet of his reason for being in the bar.

"I'm performing a ritual that requires it; to bring back a soul from the wraith's void – have you heard of it?" the old man nodded, "Yes, well, I'm assisting some allies of mine by resurrecting their daughter. I also owe her a debt." Blackbeard scrutinised the younger man carefully and noticed an expression that he hadn't observed in centuries.

"Do you care about this woman?" The words escaped Blackbeard's mouth in a rough whisper, spoken by accident as his curiosity overtook his cognitive function – a side-effect of the quantity of alcohol he'd consumed. Killian's head snapped up and though he tried to convey a façade of incredulity, the old man knew him well-enough to see the underlying defensiveness like lacework beneath his mask.

"You should know better than to question my motives, Blackbeard."

"And you should know better than to apply such imprudent emotions to a woman you can never have," he replied, surprising the pirate who stiffened at the insight.

"You always did have a habit of reading far too much into things," Killian deflected, feeling suddenly exposed under his old captain's gaze. The bearded man shrugged and took a long swig of ale.

"It's obvious that you have at least some kind of affection for this woman – if not romantic than at the very least you respect her. Nevertheless, you're trying to disregard it because you know that she will never reciprocate you're disposition; although as to why you might feel that way I can't be sure. It's written all over your face, Killian. You really need to brush up on your ability to hide your emotions," Blackbeard said indifferently. Even semi-drunk, his intelligence exceeded at least 90% of the people Killian knew.

The pirate shook his head, appearing to let the comment roll off his shoulder. In reality, a small thing within his mind pocketed the old man's comments for later brooding. It joined the plethora of comments ranging from Regina's regarding his motivation to Cora's expression when she had deliberately articulated her disappointment that he'd _chosen_ the Swan girl.

"My motivation is of no concern to you," he deadpanned, agitated now that Blackbeard was scrutinising him like an insect, "can you retrieve what I need or not?"

The man beside him nodded, unaffected by his tone, "Of course I can, anything for a friend."

Killian nodded, "And your price? I know _that_ doesn't disappear just because we're friends," he said, biting the last word. He wouldn't deny that there were some things about this man that still put him on edge. Under the pleasantries and genuinely warm past, there was an underpinning of cloak and dagger as subtle as the sound of a hummingbird's wings.

"I don't desire anything currently – I'll get back to you," Blackbeard said after a pause. Killian watched him carefully for a minute, ensuring that the man wasn't being sarcastic. When he noticed the pirate's stare he turned and shrugged, "What? I'm not allowed to be undecided. It's not like I'm going to demand the star of Neverland, Killian."

He nodded and stood up from the stool, "When will you have it?" he asked. The old man thought about it for a second and then replied.

"Tomorrow - same time; I'll have it."

"Thank you," Killian said genuinely, making eye contact once before turning on his heel and leaving the tavern. Blackbeard watched him leave and clucked his tongue thrice, musing the pirate's foolishness to even consider caring for a woman again after all he'd been through. He turned back to the ale in his hands, taking a swig before standing up and leaving the tavern to make plans of his own.

8888

Henry and Neal sat quietly on the steps to the Quarterdeck, watching the sun set into the horizon. They were still awaiting the pirate's return and in the meantime had taken to playing 'I-spy.' After twenty rounds though, it was becoming tedious and silence suited them just fine. The pretty display of colours in the sky drew a gasp of amazement from Henry and he looked to see if his father had the same reaction. However, the expression on the man's face was far from awed. Neal's eyebrows were drawn and he appeared to be lost in some deep and painful thought.

A notion occurred to Henry and he took a moment to word it properly, "Dad?"

Neal turned to his son, the pained expression vanished and replaced by simple interest. The young boy looked down at his hands before articulating his question.

"You've been to Neverland before, right?" he clarified. Neal nodded.

"Well, I was just wondering… what happened while you were here?"

The man was quiet as he pondered his answer and looked out at the horizon again, none-too-captivated by the watercolour of pinks and oranges that tinted the sky. Henry waited patiently and watched his father's face.

When he finally spoke, it was to the sky, "I came here because I sacrificed myself for my family –"

"I thought Mr Gold was your family?" Henry interrupted. Neal frowned and turned to his son.

"That's true but I also found a family in our world when I first went there and they were attacked by Peter's shadow. So, I sacrificed myself so it would leave them alone," he explained.

"So, what happened while you were here?" Henry reiterated lightly, trying not to push any unwelcome memories his father might have. The boy wanted to know and was incredibly desperate to sate his curiosity about the foreign land but not at the expense of anyone's discomfort, especially his father's.

Luckily, Neal chose to answer his son's question, "I met Hook and stayed with him for a while and then… I was taken by the Lost Boys." The man would not deign to attempt to poison his son against the pirate, moreover Henry did not need to know all of the dark ways of the world – least of which the complicated flaws that every individual had. It would be too difficult to explain the situation when Hook had given Neal up. And besides, he'd made peace with his contribution to that night a long time ago – although when he would fill Hook in about his forgiveness he would never know.

"While I was with the Lost Boys they made me work for them and I eventually escaped back to our world and the rest is history," Neal said. Henry nodded again and looked out at the sun descending into the opalescent blue sea.

Just as the ocean swallowed up the sun, Killian stepped aboard. He pulled off his black cloak and immediately noticed Henry on the stairs beside his father. However, what surprised the young boy was the expression of anger that quickly filled his hardened features.

"Why is he above deck?" he growled at Neal. Henry's father stood up and approached the pirate calmly.

"It was getting a little stuffy down there. Besides, I was keeping an eye out and no one saw him," he said. But Killian would have none of it, striding over to the boy in question.

"Henry, would you be inclined to go below deck and organise the meals for everyone?" Henry nodded and made a beeline for the door – already sensing the mounting tension on the deck and refusing to get caught in the crosshairs. As soon as the hatch closed, Killian reeled on the child's father; eyes ablaze with fury.

"You, of all people, should know why he needs to stay below deck!" he hissed furiously.

Neal met the pirate's gaze, equally icy, "Yes, I do. But the Lost Boys don't go hunting until nightfall and no one was around the docks so the risk was minimal. We were about to go below deck just as you came," he replied.

Killian rolled his eyes, "And if someone has seen him? Do you realise what this might mean for our little undertaking?"

"Don't tell me what to do, Hook. I may have been under your command once but that changed a long time ago," he spat, turning around and heading below deck. The sky was finally dark and the stars were beginning to twinkle against the backdrop of the atmosphere. Killian looked around once, a shiver creeping down his spine as he recalled the Lost One's in his mind's eye, and hastened below deck.

**Reviews are fresh warm chocolate chip cookies (where the chocolate is still melted) and a glass of milk on a cold day. The pitiful cry for reviews is now definitely a thing.**

**Just an update on my future plans; I've basically got the full story mapped out but I might change it because my muse does this thing where it will give me one idea and then a week later a bombshell of awesomeness will explode. It's bitchin. I cannot wait for you guys to read the next three chapters. Seriously. Oh, and some of you are spot on with predictions (however, _which_ ones of you are correct I will never divulge *insert evil laughter*).**


	8. Chapter 7: Lilith's Lagoon

**A/U I made up a pretend pixie legend. Yay for me! In other notes ****104**** follows!? Seriously? I **_**love**_** you guys. By the way, if I'm a little slow on the uptake it's because holidays are ending and I may or may not be in the process of writing a Criminal Minds themed CS AU. No hate, appreciate.**

**Have a fantastic week guys!**

**Chapter Seven: Lilith's Lagoon**

Sure enough, the next day when Killian entered the candidly named 'Inn,' Blackbeard sat at the bar, perched comfortably on his stool with a mug of ale in his hands. He nursed the alcohol idly, apparently contemplating something as the pirate strode towards him. So consumed by his inner musings was the old man that he didn't register Killian's presence until a hand landed on his shoulder. Blackbeard jumped slightly in his seat to the utter amusement of his younger companion.

"What thought has you obsessed?" Killian questioned, pulling his hand back.

Blackbeard shook his head and, with an air of nonchalance, replied, "Just some plans I'm making. It's of no concern to you." The pirate scrutinised him out of habit as his gaze flickered down and his former captain reached down to procure the small pouch from a satchel tied securely to his belt.

"One pound of fairy dust, is that enough?" he asked, placing it in Killian's outstretched hand.

A small amount of the substance lined the inner corners and Killian held the pouch deftly as he checked its contents. The fine white-gold dust was packed securely in the brown pouch. He re-tied the opening and put the goods in his inner jacket pocket. All this he did with one hand, still reluctant to let anyone see his namesake and risk recognition.

Blackbeard drank from the cup in his grip as he waited for the young man to reply. Finally satisfied, Killian patted the man on the back, causing him to accidentally spill some of the amber liquid onto the counter top. The bar-keeper gave Killian a withering look and made to clear it up – although as to why, he couldn't fathom (the place was already a wreck and it wasn't as if spilt rum was going to dramatically change that fact).

"Thank you," he said genuinely, "how did you procure it so fast?"

Blackbeard shrugged, "_I_ still have friends in Pixie Hollow and one of them owed me a favour."

Killian paused momentarily, a faraway look in his eyes as he recalled a question that had struck him the previous night. He looked back at his friend and his expression sobered significantly, "Have you heard from Tink recently?"

The old man's eyes glanced downward and he sighed despondently, "No." Killian frowned; his captain had always been friendly with the pixie despite their contrasting agendas. Somehow, the old man's temperament had been amusing to her and he'd subsequently earned her friendship. So, for him to deny having contact with her was an indicator that something was not completely right.

Blackbeard picked up on Killian's confusion and exhaled heavily, staring into his mug ruefully, "She died about three years back – an altercation with one of the Lost Ones… I'm sorry Killian."

So she was dead. Killian's shoulders dropped marginally and he bit back the urge to hit something. His mind replayed their last encounter and it hurt to realise that he'd never received the opportunity to apologise for what he did, what he became. He could feel as a scar etched itself into his being, joining the many others that had been shaped from losing people who had once meant something to him. It took him a considerable amount of focus to keep his expression neutral.

Blackbeard observed him in silence. Finally, Killian replied stoically, "Have you decided your price?"

He shook his head in answer, "Don't worry about it. Just save the girl and see me before you leave – I'll have thought of something by then."

His desire to depart the inn prompted him to agree to the terms of their arrangement and Killian nodded once before striding towards the exit. His eyes were downcast as he marched forward and he could feel Blackbeard's gaze on him as he walked. His concentration was so confined to the recesses of his mind that he didn't realise someone had opened the door to enter just as he reached out to open it. He nearly ran into the person and would have likely knocked them over judging by the slight frame cleverly disguised by a khaki coloured coat. However, Killian was in no mood to jest and so, without apologising for nearly mowing down the person, walked straight out the door.

The person he'd nearly run into watched him curiously before turning around with an elegantly raised eyebrow. Blonde hair peeking from underneath the cloak's hood, the individual walked towards the bar where they sat in the unoccupied stool beside Blackbeard.

"I do hope you have a formidable reason for summoning me here," the person said.

He turned to face his new companion, a wary smile on his cracked lips, "I have a deal to make."

8888

The sun was half-way consumed by the ocean when Killian reached the ship again, satisfied when he saw that the deck was clear of people. As he stepped on to the gang plank, he checked that the pouch with the fairy dust was still tied to his belt. It was still attached and he untied the straps while he walked. Killian headed below deck and was intrigued to hear hushed voices in one of the rooms that he passed.

In his room, he placed the package of white-gold substance in a crevice underneath a loose wooden board – a hiding place he'd utilised since the first time he'd set foot on the Jolly Roger. Satisfied that the pixie dust was concealed, Killian stood up and headed for the room where he'd heard his companion's conversing. The door creaked as it opened and all eyes turned towards him. Mary Margaret and Charming sat close together in one corner with Neal, Henry and Regina huddled around a game of cards in the other.

"Did you get it?" the prince asked immediately, standing up and approaching the pirate.

"Yes, it's secured in my cabin. We can begin our journey to Lilith's Lagoon," he replied, "Do you still have the blanket?" Charming turned to his wife to check and when she nodded he assured Killian that the token was still in their care.

"Good, in that case I'll set sail. You can come above deck in another half an hour – by then our ship should be out of sight from Calcava Port," Killian said. He turned on his heel at that and headed straight above deck. The Jolly Roger immediately responded to his commands, moving out of the derelict docks and out into the open ocean of the ageless realm.

The ship glided through the opalescent waters, barely rocking against the miniscule waves. Neverland's waters had always been calm, it was why it was so easy to isolate dangers – a ripple, some foam, bubbling; all indicators that a beastie was about to make an appearance. Killian had only been forced to face a few in his time, thanks to the speed that the Jolly Roger was renowned for. It came in incredibly handy when outrunning creatures of the deep that were habitually lazy (unless motivated by something other than hunger, like rage). It wasn't cowardice if the opponent was an incoherent beast with a hankering for human flesh.

Killian watched as the dilapidated docks of Calcava Port faded into the distance and the minutes ticked by. It barely felt like half an hour when the door to the decks below opened to reveal his travelling companions. First to exit was the young boy, followed by his father and then the Swan girl's parents. Apparently, Regina had either retired to bed or was in no mood to be above deck. She'd been out of sorts for a while, and Killian presumed it had something to do with the fact that her magical abilities were severely limited here. The Evil Queen's identity was ruled by her power and, without it, she was lost.

He could understand it; however opposed he was to persons able to wield magic. The mayor didn't have much else going for her – her mother and father were dead (both as a result of her actions), as was her lover (a piece of information that Cora had divulged in their short alliance) and she was probably on par with Killian in the amount of unconditional trust they received from Charming family. Other than Henry, who was not entirely hers, the only thing she had was magic.

Killian was so consumed by his inner reflections that he didn't register the small presence beside him until the young voice infiltrated his thoughts.

"Hook?" Henry said in an attempt to garner the pirate's attention. He was successful and the man turned to face him, eyebrows raised as if silently questioning the boy's presence. "You said we had to go to Lilith's Lagoon, before?"

Killian nodded, "Aye, I did. What about it?"

Henry's lips tugged upwards into a sheepish grin, "Why is it called that?"

The pirate smiled in amusement and the optimistic response was clearly a relief to the child whose shoulders relaxed. He looked down to the main deck where Snow and Charming were surveying their movements. Killian rolled his eyes and turned back to Henry whose face was alight with curiosity. He opened his mouth to dissuade the kid but found himself unable to do it. Instead, Killian walked past Henry to the Quarterdeck stairs and patted the spot beside him.

Henry was instantly at his side, as was the concerned stares of his grandparents who made a point of shuffling infinitesimally closer to the pair. It was obvious that they'd ceased conversing and were now straining their ears to listen to whatever tale the pirate had to impart on the child. Across the deck, Neal seemingly noticed them as Killian began speaking.

"You've heard about pixies, no doubt?" he asked and Henry was quick to affirm. When Killian spoke again, his voice seemed to deepen. "A very long time ago, Neverland was host to a pixie who called herself Lilith. It is said that she was incredibly beautiful, and it disguised her cunning and cruel nature like a mask. However, one day her true colours were revealed and she was quickly banished from Pixie Hollow."

"What did she do?" Henry asked.

Killian shrugged, "Nobody knows – it was so long ago that those whom were primary observers are either dead or have forgotten. Nevertheless, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and Lilith quickly made plans to steal the lights of all the pixies. She planned to use it to gain full control of Neverland and eventually plunder the remaining realms.

"Though she was incredibly powerful, Lilith did not possess the magic required to remove the lights of the pixies. So, using what power she had, Lilith utilised dark magic to mould a beast that would consume the lights and act as a weapon. But, before she could send it away, her own pet quickly divulged that souls provided it much more power than the pixie light." He paused for effect, unable to restrain his storytelling tendencies in Henry's presence. The child was hanging on his every word and, as Killian looked around, he realised for the first time that Snow and Charming were now openly facing him as they too were consumed by his story. Neal, too, had moved closer to them and was focused on the pirate. He looked down when he noticed Killian's eyes on him and folded his arms across his chest.

Henry's patience withered, "What happened?"

The pirate turned back to him and a grim smile formed on his face, "Lilith was its first victim. She died soon after her soul was stolen and the pixies burned her body for good measure. However, the beast was still on the loose and it took the combined efforts of the entire pixie coven to send the monster through a portal into another realm where it would roam -"

"That's the wraith," Snow interrupted suddenly, realisation dawning on the others as they put the facts together and watched Killian for confirmation. He smiled and bowed his head to the princess.

"I'm impressed, milady. Yes, that is how the wraith came to be," he said and was surprised to see that Henry's eyebrows were now drawn together in confusion.

"What's wrong, lad?" Killian asked.

"I still don't understand why it's called Lilith's Lagoon," he explained and the pirate nodded in understanding.

"Well, the Lagoon in the South is where the wraith was fashioned and the realm where the souls are incarcerated borders on that Lagoon – it is Lilith's final resting place and thus the lake is named for it," he answered and the deck was silent as everyone took a moment to think about it.

"My mother told me she knew a descendent of Lilith but I didn't know what she'd meant at the time," Regina's voice broke the silence, surprising Killian. She walked around from where she had evidently been next to the door and out of his line of sight. The woman crossed her arms and frowned in thought.

It was David who spoke next, "How did she know there was a descendent?" Everyone seemed to have though the same thing and the mayor was suddenly the centre of attention on the ship. She shrugged and shook her head.

"I don't know," she said, "I was never privy to details when it came to my mother." Her tone conveyed bitterness and Snow looked down at the reference to Cora. At the mention of the witch, tension seemed to roll in like smog and the two women shifted uncomfortably on the spot. Killian rolled his eyes at their temperament; it was slightly pathetic, the degree to which Cora's death had affected these two women. And while Killian could sympathise over a daughter losing her mother, Cora had never displayed any of the typical maternal instincts nor had Regina ever shown special affinity for her mother. Their alliance in the end had been short-lived and fuelled by two separate agendas – not familial love or affection.

Therefore, Killian thought it unreasonable that the woman should feel particularly injured by her mother's death (even if it had been by her hand). He was especially disappointed in Snow, whose entire personality retracted under the subject. The woman who he'd met in the Enchanted Forest was very different to the woman who still acted as though she'd slaughtered an innocent. Cora had been a necessary casualty in the fight for her family's safety – anyone with common sense knew as much.

The pirate shrugged off the ability to lock the women in a room to sort out their issues and turned his attention to Regina.

"Did your mother ever mention a name?" he questioned and she shook her head in response, "Did she ever tell you anything that may give us an indication as to the identity of this pixie?"

"Why are you so interested?" Regina replied defensively, scrutinising the pirate. Killian ignored her jibe as it was obvious that she didn't know anything. His mind raced as he weighed the risk of running into such a descendent. It was unlikely that he wouldn't have heard about any such pixie's existence by now, either from overhearing about it in Calcava or from Blackbeard's forewarning. So, either it was a myth or the descendent was long dead.

"Hook?" David said, snapping Killian back to the present. He recalled Regina's question and regarded each of them seriously.

"I wouldn't fancy meeting Lilith's descendent. You see, darkness such as that which was rampant in Lilith runs through pixie blood like a disease… Where human temperament depends upon environment, pixies' depends on their descendants."

Again, the ship was enveloped in silence, save for the sound of the waves lightly resisting against the Jolly Roger as it glided through the water. Killian looked at each of the people aboard again, until his eyes rested on Neal who, incidentally, was watching him as well. However, he didn't lower his gaze this time.

"Have you heard how Tink is doing?" he asked and the pirate's eyes dropped this time. He truly dreaded having to reiterate her demise, especially to someone who would share his reaction. To make matters worse, Henry perked up at the name. A grin spread across his face and his eyes flickered between the two men.

"Tink? As in Tinkerbelle? You mean - she's real?" he said rapidly, his voice raising an octave in excitement.

Killian winced and Neal nodded half-heartedly, although his expression had significantly deepened as he registered the pirate's reaction to the question. He raised his head to meet Neal's eyes and let the mask of indifference close off his face as he replied.

"She died three years ago. Blackbeard told me – the lost boys," he said.

Killian immediately turned to gage Emma's son's reaction and was disappointed with what he saw.

Henry's high spirits seemed to vanish like a candle being blown out. It was as if it finally dawned on him that Neverland wasn't the realm he'd always dreamed of. His eyes were no longer glistening with excitement and the smile faded into a thin line. The boy's entire demeanour seemed to sober but he did not cry; in fact, Killian would swear the boy appeared to have grown a year within the space of a second.

The pirate looked back at Neal again and he could see the pain in his eyes, and he guessed they mirrored the look in his own ice blue eyes. It was fleeting but for a brief, albeit silent, moment the two men shared an understanding.

"So I see we're moving – how long will it take to get to Lilith's Lagoon?" Regina asked, effectively ending the moment shared between the two men. Killian stood up from the steps and looked out at the horizon.

"I'd say at least half a day until we reach the closest shore. We'll have to trek to the Lagoon from there which should take us to just before sunset. Then we can do the ritual."

Henry chose that moment to stand up and put a hand on Killian's arm. He smiled meaningfully at the pirate, "Thank you for helping us." The older man nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The boy turned around then, and headed below deck.

Snow and Charming nodded to the pirate in silent appreciation and followed Henry. Regina followed them shortly after. It was getting dark as Killian and Neal were left alone on the main deck of the Jolly Roger for the umpteenth time since the beginning of their journey. The memory of the other day hung in the air and both men felt unequivocally uncomfortable as the night air declined in temperature. Neal took a deep breath, his breath coming out in a chalky mist, and broke the silence.

"I remember the first time I hit this deck," he said, kicking the wooden boards, and it almost sounded _nostalgic_.

Killian tried not to grin as he recalled the small boy being heaved up onto the deck; a soaking mess.

"Aye, I do recall. You were conscious for about a minute. My men had to carry you to the cabins below deck," the pirate said wistfully.

Neal chuckled, "I was never afraid of you, you know. I know your men were – but I never was."

"I know," Killian smirked, "I'm fairly sure the crew feared you as a result of that."

"I think it had more to do with my lineage…" Neal's voice drifted off and the momentary joviality between the men slowly faded, replaced by tension. The man stuffed his hands in the pockets of his hoodie and made to go below deck. Killian watched him as he walked towards the door and was surprised when he turned around again, eyes downcast as he visibly searched for words.

"Why wouldn't true love's kiss work on Emma? I mean, it's supposed to be the ultimate cure," he said nervously.

Killian shrugged, "I don't know if it would work or not, but unfortunately for us that cure requires her true love and we're sans that requirement." He watched Neal carefully, a dread beginning to seep into his bones as he registered the combined guilt and disappointment in the man's face. The pirate narrowed his eyes, stepping slightly closer to him.

Neal didn't meet his eyes, "Not necessarily… I… I know it wouldn't work."

"How?" Killian growled, all previous sentiment gone as he felt his spine go rigid.

The man looked up at him and he didn't need to say a word to explain the implication of his words. Memories of the first day of their journey filtered into Killian's mind: he had emerged from her room, sheepish under the gaze of her parents. _That _was why. He'd kissed her.

"You _kissed_ her?" he spat. Neal stepped around him, hands up as he tried to explain himself.

"I was grieving and I thought it might work," he tried, but Killian would have none of it. The pirate followed him as he walked back, like a predator stalking prey. He was livid.

"Everyone was grieving but no one else violated her unconscious body!" he roared, stifling the urge to impale the man with his hook. Neal's face hardened as he processed Hook's comment, the defensive edge gone as he realised the insult the pirate had dealt him.

"I did not _violate _her – I have a child with her! I thought it would bring her back!" he yelled back, taking a step closer and clenching his fists.

"Well you were wrong! I cannot believe you would take advantage of her," Killian said, his voice lowering though his voice remained sharp.

"For the last time, I wasn't taking advantage of her! I love her and I wanted her back," Neal said, his voice cracking as he finally voiced what had been circling his mind for days. Killian had no response anymore, though he still shook with anger.

"Why do you even care?" Neal finally asked bitingly, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

The pirate shook his head, "I don't" he mumbled. He turned on his heel, heading below deck and striding purposefully to the room where he knew she would be. He closed the door as he entered and began pacing the length of the small cabin.

"I _don't_ care. I haven't cared about anything other than my revenge for over three-hundred years. I have no claim to you; I have no claim to your family. They don't trust me and neither did you… _Why didn't you trust me_? Things might have been so very different if you'd just _trusted _me – but what I'm doing has nothing to do with you… I'm just here to help your son. He needs his mother and your parents need their daughter and I… Bloody hell…" Killian ran a hand through his dark hair, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. He received no response to his rant, and he hadn't expected to. Honestly, he hadn't known what he'd wanted as he'd stalked from the deck and straight to her room.

She still sat motionless on the cot, her hands crossed over her chest like a sleeping angel. Killian knelt down beside her and touched one of the strands that fell over the edge of the cot, studying it idly as he calmed his rapidly spinning thoughts.

He used his hand to tuck the stray hair behind her ear, delicately placing it before surveying her face. She looked so much more open in this comatose-sleep; unlike the woman with walls so high not even her parents could fully penetrate them. He wondered what she was like before Neal, before she'd been broken once and for all. The pirate still didn't exactly know how he had trespassed against her, but he knew the damage it had caused.

He had seen it in the way she stopped herself every single time her instincts had told her to trust him. It had been a small habit of hers that every time it happened, she'd reached for the swan necklace; touching on it as if it was reminding her to stay resolute. Killian's eyes drifted south, and not out of more primitive desires but to study the necklaces she wore. He could swear she had worn two items of jewellery around her neck when he'd met her in the Enchanted Forest, but now there was only the silver one with the unbroken circle. There had been a pendant as well though, he was sure of it – a swan pendant, that was it.

But it was no longer there, and he wondered what she'd done with it. Killian looked back up at her face, frowning as he studied her features, committing them to memory without fully realising it. He didn't know how long he stayed there, his mind blank as his eyes perused every tiny detail of her face. Eventually though, Killian stood up and, with one last glance at Emma, left to retire to bed.

8888

Emma should have been used to it by now, that strange falling sensation, but she wasn't – as was evidenced when she gasped in shock just before her surroundings morphed. Lancelot didn't appear too concerned either as her vision of him subsided and the dull field transformed into the dark room. The blonde blinked twice, sighed in irritation, and sat up. She knew he would be there, just like her past visits, so it wasn't surprising in the least when she turned around and observed him.

She walked forward lazily, stopping in front of the barrier once she felt it with her hand and placing her hands on her hips. She studied him idly and was concerned when he appeared unsure; it was no secret that this man happened to be quite adept at masking his sentiments. Emma had never truly seen him exhibit feelings contrary to the smug façade he so flawlessly practiced, except fleetingly. She shared that tendency with him and –

"You're an idiot, Jones."

Emma thoughts collided, her eyes widening as she stared at him. Had he just – he _had_ just spoken. The blonde knocked against the barrier, renewed hope blooming in her chest against her will.

"Hook! Hook can you hear me?" she yelled, her voice uncharacteristically open, "Hook?"

"Bloody hell, you're going to end up hurt again," he said, and it was obvious by his words that he didn't hear a thing she'd said. Nevertheless, the blonde continued pounding the barricade to no avail.

"You know better than this – or at least you _should_," he said bitterly. Emma closed her mouth and discontinued her ministrations on the invisible wall. Something in his voice forced her to stop and listen. Killian frowned, his eyebrows drawing together on his forehead as his eyes searched the ground for some unreachable answer.

"Gods, it shouldn't be affecting you… it's not like you expected any different," he muttered to himself, "Why should it matter, anyway?" Emma watched him carefully, his ambiguous words striking a chord even though some part of her mind refused to link it all together. She was drawn in by his voice, though she couldn't fathom why. He could have been talking about anything.

Killian seemed to be reminding himself of something, "You don't have a claim here, not to her anyway…"

And although he never uttered a name, Emma's mind somewhat suddenly assumed he was speaking about her. She swallowed, feeling unreasonably vulnerable despite his inability to see or hear her. What did he even mean by a 'claim?' God only knew what he was rambling on about.

He didn't speak for a long moment and then, when she was sure he would disappear and the room would dissipate around her, he looked up. The sudden movement caught Emma by surprise and she started. His piercing blue eyes were staring at her, and yet they were unfocused. She calmed the urge to call out to him again, repeating to herself; _he can't see you, he can't see you, he can't actually see you._

Emma felt around for the barrier and, after locating it, leant her back against it and slid down to a sitting position. It was a hard surface for something imperceptible and rigid enough that her back couldn't be pressed comfortably against it. The saviour leaned her head against it nonetheless, breathing out softly and waiting for him to continue speaking.

"That bloody infuriating woman, she's the most stubborn creature," he said and Emma almost cracked a smile.

She could hear as he exhaled heavily, "Milah probably would have been amused by her." His voice had dropped significantly in volume and the blonde remembered the name, though she wasn't sure where from until a memory invaded her mind's eye:

"_You'd make a hell of a pirate," he'd admired with a smirk, holding out the pouch of knock out powder. The tension still hung thick in the air and Emma took the opportunity to look away from his eyes, staring at the white pouch. However, her gaze flickered to his forearm where the sleeve of his black shirt had dropped back to reveal a tattoo. It was a heart and dagger with an elegant scroll of paper draped lengthways across it._

_There was a name, too; Milah. Emma looked up from the tattoo, meeting his gaze again. _

"_Who's Milah – in the tattoo?" she asked, taking the poppy powder from him as she did. His eyes immediately flickered down to the tattoo in mention, the mirth evaporating like water in heat. He shrugged the sleeve back down and a moment of silence passed between them as the blonde waited for an answer._

"_Someone from long ago."_

Milah was his lover, the woman Gold had killed. Emma frowned, her stomach clenching uncomfortably at the notion that he was thinking about her in unison with his dead lover. She didn't want to muse the implications of that and, as though the Gods themselves were listening, she felt her surroundings fading.

Emma turned around before the dark room could disappear and, sure enough, he was gone.

**Reviews are love for Colin O'Donoghue's eyebrows (therefore I expect massive amounts because who doesn't love those two caterpillars above his eyes?)**

**Do we still trust Blackbeard? Who's that blonde just walked up-up in the club? (Yes, crappy song lyrics – I'm a loser. But you're still reading so the joke's on you.) And what about Killian finally talking in what I like to call the 'Kindred-Room' ?**


	9. Chapter 8: Preamble

**A/U Sorry about the long wait! I've been simultaneously working on this and my new AU, Provocatuer so my time's been divided. This chapter is the smallest thus far because next one is going to be a mammoth. I **_**love**_** your comments and feedback and I hope you stick with it. Keep following and favoriting!**

**Chapter Eight: Preamble**

The sun was at its peak when they reached the line of trees that signified the beginning of the Neverwoods. Killian looked over his shoulder to where the Jolly Roger sat, unable to calm the anxiety that arose from leaving it unattended. Their entire congregation was to make the trek to Lilith's Lagoon; her immediate family and Neal had outright refused to be absent from the ritual and Regina had explained that her magical assistance might come in handy – and she was not leaving her son for a moment in this godforsaken realm. And, since Killian was their only guide in this particular section of the Neverwoods, the party of six left the ship vacant to make the arduous trek to Lilith's Lagoon.

Charming carried his daughter's body since it was required to be present at the ceremony as the soul would vanish without an open vessel. He cradled her lifeless form in his arms, and for one reason or another there had been a rueful far-off look in his eyes as he initially lifted her – as if the prince were reminiscing in times gone by. Snow had touched his arm gently and the pair exchanged a silent message.

Killian shrugged off the desire to understand their prior exchange and turned to face the five people behind him. Henry, whom he had expected might display signs of eagerness at entering the forest, was standing beside his father with an expression of determination on his face. Killian would have been impressed had he not been so disheartened at inadvertently destroying the boy's innocent misperceptions.

David shifted his weight so that he could get a better grip on his daughter, and it was obvious from his expression that he was anxious to get going. However, the pirate needed to make clear a few things if they wanted to get in and out of the woodland alive.

He did not bother with preamble, "Follow my lead and we should arrive at the lagoon just before the sunset. The Neverwoods are dangerous but the majority of the creatures in this leg of the forest are nocturnal so it should be a clear path. If you get bitten by anything, inform me immediately. If a plant of any definition seems to follow your movements, kill it. And most importantly, try not to call out lest you wake up one of the aforementioned beasties – and trust me when I say they do not take kindly to being woken up."

With a curt nod, Killian withdrew his sword and turned around, heading into the forest. David was behind him, followed by Mary Margaret who secured her backpack once and held her bow ready with an arrow already aligned. Henry was quick to sidle up beside his Grandfather and Neal and Regina walked at the back. They surveyed Henry carefully, as well as his surroundings and their own – searching for potential roots of danger.

However, with the pirate leading their group, the vast majority of threats that they encountered were quickly dispatched. He decapitated seemingly harmless flowers that, when punctured, emitted a foul smelling red pus. With a half-hearted glance behind him, the pirate said, "Do _not_ touch that – it's poisonous and heavily acidic."

After ten minutes of walking, the path was relatively clear of plants which indicated it was probably used by the Lost Ones. Killian scrutinised their surroundings heavily, continuing to walk though he strained his ears to identify anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing but the sound of leaves and branches crunching underfoot.

The shrubbery became increasingly dense as they ventured further into the Neverwoods and Killian could hear the man behind him start to waver in energy as the exertion it took to carry the lass took its toll. Emma was certainly not heavy by any standards but, trekking through a forest at the hottest point of the day was bound to be physically straining – even for someone as fit as Charming.

Finally, Henry seemed to notice his grandfather's situation and Killian heard as the young boy implored the prince.

"Grandpa, why don't you take a break? I'm sure Hook or Neal can hold her," he said. There was a long pause after he spoke, during which Killian assumed Charming probably gave his grandson a long look. And knowing Henry, the lad would have held is gaze as self-assured as one can be under scrutiny.

Charming sighed heavily in what sounded like defeat. However, he assumed he would pass his daughter onto the father of her child before entrusting her to a pirate.

"Hook!" Killian's head snapped up in surprise and he stopped walking to turn around. Their entire party of six came to a stop and Neal and Regina appeared to be watching the exchange carefully.

"Would you be able to hold Emma for a while?" Charming asked, studying the pirate. He still seemed to be deciding on whether or not he should actually do it despite the words that came out of his mouth. Killian, smartly, chose to remain serious – if he ever wanted the approval of Swan's family, he would have to refrain from using innuendos around them – _what? _Something in his mind halted the thought.

_Why are you trying to get their approval?_ A voice hissed in the back of Killian's mind. He shrugged it off but the prince had already noted his pause and had taken a minute step backwards.

"Yes – yes, I'll take her. But I'll need you to lead; just follow my directions and cut down every single plant that crosses our path – harmless in appearance or not," he said, nodding quickly and putting away his sword. It was Charming's turn to pause uncertainly and Killian held out his arms expectantly.

After a long moment, during which the prince sized the pirate up pretty evenly, he placed Emma's body gently in Killian's arms. He rolled his shoulders, his arms now free of the weight, and stepped around the man to pull out his sword. The pirate looked up and quickly noticed Neal's eyes on him, and for some unknown reason he felt tense under the scrutiny; something uncharacteristic for Killian. He quickly turned around; all the while watching to make sure none of the branches scratched Emma.

David had already started walking and Killian moved quickly to make up the space between them. Henry was walking beside his Grandmother now, and the pirate took the opportunity to speak to the woman in his arms.

"You're a bit heavier than I would have thought, love," he whispered sarcastically. He could immediately imagine her scathing retort and laughed quietly to himself.

"Why is it every time you end up in my arms it is from some external force? Do you really go to this much trouble just to get me to hold you – you should know all you have to do is ask." He glanced down at her and smirked, remembering the time atop the beanstalk when she had abruptly pulled him away from the tripwire. Something that had always bothered him about that particular experience though, was that she'd had his attention when she pulled on his elbow. He wasn't going to walk any further.

And yet, she'd felt the need to embrace him. He had been safe, and yet she'd reassured herself by holding his body to hers. At the time, Killian had obviously taken advantage of it – using it as fuel for his innuendos as he reciprocated the action. She'd pulled away (obviously) but it had thrown him for a loop.

He knew her well-enough to know that the action wouldn't have been out of affection. He also knew that she wouldn't have done it just to give herself an excuse to hold him. But, the memory still forced him to pause.

"Why _did_ you grab hold of me?" he asked, less humour in his expression as he made the inquiry.

"Are you talking to yourself?" Henry questioned and Killian started at the boy's sudden appearance.

The pirate looked down at the kid, a smirk forming on his lips as he sighed to release the apprehension Henry's abrupt arrival had created within him.

"No, actually," he replied, "I was talking to your mother."

Henry smiled and Killian stepped carefully over a fallen log in their path, waiting momentarily as the young boy did the same. They fell easily into step, though for every one of the pirate's stride, Henry took two steps. Surprisingly, Emma's son didn't question Killian's sanity nor did he inquire as to what the man had been saying to his mother. In fact, he changed the subject.

"How did you become a pirate?" he asked out of the blue.

Killian glanced down at Henry with a look that questioned the boy's mental stability – he really did jump from one thing to another. The kid didn't react to the scrutiny though, he just continued walking.

"Um… well, I became one after my father abandoned me," he said after some pause. Henry nodded and waited for him to elucidate.

"I joined Blackbeard's crew and we came here, stayed for quite a while. Then, when we were leaving to come back to the Enchanted Forest, Blackbeard decided to stay and I was promoted to captain. And I guess I've been one ever since."

Henry nodded appreciatively again, "I thought Blackbeard was a villain in all the stories?"

Killian bit his lip and glanced down at the child; he had one of two options. He could tell the child the truth or spare him what little he had left of his innocence. But then, lying was just as bad as the destruction of innocence and Henry deserved nothing less than honesty. And after everything, the pirate truly believed he was strong enough to bear any harsh truth now.

"He is," he said truthfully, finding that his mind decided that was the moment to replay all the vicious things he'd seen the man do. And yet they were still friends, purely because Killian refused to make an enemy out of a man who he'd seen do some abhorrent things. Granted, they were centuries ago – back when vicious brutality was the only way to get things done.

But it didn't matter how long he lived, the worst things always stayed with you.

Killian watched Henry carefully to gage his reaction, which appeared almost… grateful. He looked at the man walking beside him and though he didn't smile, there was a sense of respect in the way he observed the pirate that made fondness bloom in Killian's chest.

Comfortable silence descended between them and they walked without speaking for a long time. In fact, it wasn't until Killian began to feel his arms cramp up that they spoke.

Swallowing his pride, he turned to the boy, "Henry, will you get your father?"

The child nodded and dropped back to fetch his father who immediately sidled up to the pirate.

"What's wrong?" Neal asked, his eyes on Emma.

Killian pulled on the leash attached to his ego; he really hated having to do this but the alternative option would likely result in Emma's body being dropped to the ground.

"I'm going to drop Emma if I carry her any longer, would you please?" he said, hiding his dismay with forced nonchalance. The man quickly put his arms out and before Killian could take a last look at her face, Neal had her cradled in his arms.

"Stay in the middle now, I'll send Charming to the back to bring up the rear with Regina while I take the lead," he said, walking quickly up to where the prince was still slashing at the thick greenery. He glanced back at the pirate as he approached, clearly having heard his footfalls.

"Where's Emma?" he asked, though he wasn't concerned.

"Neal has her; I was unable to continue without compromising her safety," Killian said, walking beside the prince who grunted in reply, "I'll take the front; you bring up the rear with Regina."

Surprisingly, Charming simply nodded, walking to the back of the group as Killian withdrew his sword again.

He quickly went back to cutting through the greenery that impeded their path, although every so often he would glance over his shoulder to where Neal was holding the blonde. The man had his eyes on Emma and Killian had to subdue the urge to yell at him to keep his eyes in front of him should he trip and drop her. He also noticed Henry making his way up again and smiled as he thought of the child falling into stride with him again.

However, the young boy's voice was speaking from behind him and Killian glanced over his shoulder again. Henry had sidled up to his father, and the pirate felt immediately stupid for thinking the child might actually enjoy his company. He was a pirate. The bad guy.

Smile vanishing, Killian focused on the task before him, shutting out all other thoughts by concentrating on efficiently slicing through the plants in their way.

8888

Neal was surprised to say the least when Killian had handed her over without so much as a fuss. Nonetheless, his concise instructions and succinct departure relayed more about his feelings towards the man than any words could convey. The pirate walked to the front, and after a brief exchange with Emma's father, took the lead as David headed to the bag of their small congregation.

He watched the ground for a moment before finally letting his gaze wander up to her face, and he was consumed by it. Her head lolled back due to her unconscious state and her blonde hair fell like a golden waterfall over his arm. She really was beautiful. As materialistic and shallow as it was, her beauty had been the reason he had treated her so warmly when she stole the car all those years ago. All he would have had to do was ask her to pull over immediately with some excuse about not telling the authorities because he was a believer of good will and second chances or something bogus like that. But no, the girl with the thick glasses, red lips and blonde ponytail had drawn him in.

And there he was, carrying her through the Neverwoods after what felt like centuries of history between them, and he still felt the giddy warmth blossom in his chest. It was like experiencing it for the first time. It was really quite nice.

"Hey Dad?"

Henry suddenly appeared beside him and Neal momentarily stumbled, gripping Emma tightly as he regained his footing and continued walking. This time, though, he kept his eyes ahead of him.

"Yeah?" Neal replied.

"How do you reckon Mom's going to react when we tell her we're in Neverland?" he asked enthusiastically and ostensibly optimistic considering it was still a coin-toss as to whether the spell would work. Neal pursed his lips in thought.

"I think she'll probably take it in her stride – I mean, she dealt with the fact her family come from the Enchanted Forest didn't she?" he admitted. Henry nodded appreciatively and apparently agreed with him because he didn't bring it up again. In fact, the child just kept talking – like a motorboat. He powered through a variety of un-linked subjects like it was a race and Neal found himself smiling.

Definitely Emma's kid; the poor boy was obviously nervous.

Nevertheless, Neal dutifully listened and replied at appropriate intervals, all the while feeling someone's eyes on his back.

8888

"How you holding up?" David asked, walking closer to Mary Margaret. She smiled half-heartedly, looking back over her shoulder as he fell into step beside her. Regina still walked behind them, her hands buried in her pockets as she trudged along after them.

"I'm fine… I just want this to be over," the small woman admitted.

"I know," her husband replied, patting her arm reassuringly.

Silence passed between them and Mary Margaret found herself looking ahead at Neal and Henry who appeared deep in conversation – however, calling it a conversation would imply an equal amount of talking. Henry was clearly speaking a million miles a minute and the princess found herself inadvertently smiling at the boy's nervous tendencies.

David noticed her smile and followed her gaze to the two individuals walking behind Killian. He too smiled and shook his head lightly. As the young woman watched them interact, she caught sight of her daughter in the man's arms and her thoughts began to turn over another curiosity.

She found herself staring intently at them and once again her husband was quick to notice.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked curiously.

"Just wondering what Emma's going to do once all of this is said and done."

"What do you mean?"

She paused, frowning, "Well, I just wonder if she's going to get back together with Neal – Tamara's no longer an issue and Henry sure as hell wants it to happen. Do you think she'll take him back?"

David watched Neal and Mary Margaret could see as the wheels in his head began to turn with thought. He considered the notion calmly and rationally before addressing his wife.

"Neal's not a bad guy," he admitted carefully, "But… I don't know if he's what Emma needs."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I just think that – I mean, I know he cares about her – I just think she needs someone who will challenge her. She doesn't need someone to molly coddle her; that's our job," David explained, looking at his wife to see if she understood his reasoning.

Mary Margaret nodded, "Okay," she answered.

Satisfied that the subject had run its course, the prince returned his eyes to their course and he scanned their surroundings once. When he was finished, he found his gaze locked on the back of the pirate leading their group. The man, clad in leather, appeared to be all but attacking the foliage attempting to hinder their path, as if it had personally offended him.

He couldn't fathom what might have prompted such focus on destroying the vegetation – David had watched him earlier when he'd led their group and he had been efficient but not harsh. Something had obviously prodded him the wrong way and he tried to think what could have done that.

No one had recently offended him (as far as the prince knew), no one had disobeyed his orders (yet) and thus far the trip was proving to be quite simple. In fact, if it weren't for the continued precautions, David would have sworn the pirate was lying when he claimed Neverland was a dangerous land. They were, after all, yet to run into mortal peril.

"David?" Mary Margaret's voice garnered his attention and he faced her again.

She raised an eyebrow, "Why are you looking at Hook like that?"

"Like what?" he asked, unusually defensive.

"Like – I don't know. Like, you were sizing him up or something?"

"I wasn't."

"Well it looked like you were."

"Why would I be sizing him up?"

Mary Margaret opened her mouth but stopped herself, waiting a moment to clearly process her thoughts so she didn't blurt anything out unintentionally. David waited patiently for an answer and she finally gave one.

"I just thought it was strange that you might be looking at him after we discussed Emma's romantic life," she said, letting her words drift off and her eyes land on the leader of their crusade.

David was shocked into silence, "Sorry – what? Did you – you thought I was… _Snow_." He scoffed the last word, barking a laugh that lacked sincerity. She narrowed her eyes at him playfully, knocking his arm affectionately and letting the subject drop.

However, as she turned away, David found his thoughts mildly interested by her implication.

Killian was, after all, a lot like Emma. From what he knew about the pirate's past, he shared a lot in common with the blonde. More so than that, he was stubborn like her and determined. He also didn't play well with people who tried to tell him what to do. It was no wonder he pushed her out of her comfort zone (or at least that's what Snow had related to him upon their return from the Enchanted Forest).

David would happily admit that for all of Killian Jones' flaws, he was not an inherently bad person; their adventure across the realms proved as much. What kind of 'bad' person would risk everything to save a woman he'd only known for little over a month? The pirate wasn't a villain – he was a victim of unfortunate circumstances and the emotions that followed.

8888

Someone was staring at him.

He could feel eyes on his back and he wondered who might be observing at him. Killian subdued the urge to turn around and identify the person and continued walking, swiping his sword with methodical grace.

He felt as the shrubbery became less and less dense, the trees sparser and path wider; his sword requiring less use as the amount of deadly plants subsided. He lifted his eyes from where they had been focused on the path and looked out ahead and what greeted him had his heart beating faster. His pulse quickened and the moisture in the air felt like it would suffocate him. Ahead of them, approximately fifty metres in the distance, was a clearing. And, even from fifty metres away, Killian could just make out the sparkling opalescent waters of Lilith's Lagoon.

They had arrived.

**Dum dum DUUUM! Guess what next chapter will revolve around?**

**Reviews are the smell of your favourite meal when you're starving!**


	10. Chapter 9: Save You

**A/U Well hello there dumplings! Your reviews are much appreciated and I want to hug all of you for making me smile with each one. I feel like Cornelius Fudge at the Quidditch World Cup when I say… LET THE FUN (I know he says 'match' but humor me) BEGIN!**

**Chapter Nine: Save You**

The sun was drifting down the horizon at a languid pace, the blue sky slowly tinting to a strange purple as the sunset approached. The second the group had collectively noticed the lake in the distance, their pace had quickened, hearts racing and breaths deepening as they realised just what they had arrived at. The air felt heavy as they waded through the now-sparse forestry that surrounded them.

There was a feeling of anticipation as they'd trekked through the woods, a sentiment that felt like a rope linking them all together because they were all experiencing it. They had nothing left to talk about in those last metres before they emerged the clearing. Everyone was far too caught up in their own mind, their own thoughts consuming what little attention they could spare in the Neverwoods forest.

As Killian, who was the leader of their group, stepped out into the large clearing, his eyes fell instantaneously on the waters of Lilith's Lagoon, shining like a million tiny diamonds were implanted into the surface of the unmoving lake. The calmness of it all left an eerie impression on the grassy expanse.

Lilith's Lagoon sat on the edge of a cliff and, as Killian's eyes drifted up from the enchanted waters, he let himself drink in the site before him. The tree line started about five metres from the edge of the lake, and followed its perimeter in a semi-circular shape until it reached the edge. If it weren't for a small section of land separating the lagoon from the cliff, it might have been a sort of waterfall.

Nevertheless, there was a very clear and very intentional view of the Neverland Sea that stretched out to touch the sky; the same precipice that the sun was now moving down towards at what felt like increasing speed.

Their group quickly gathered around the edge of the lake and the anticipation rolled of their small congregation in near-tangible waves. Neal still held Emma and, at Charming's instruction, placed her gently near the edge of the lake. Killian watched as the man lightly traced the side of her face before standing up and stepping away, and the pirate felt a muscle in his jaw tighten at the tender affection.

He dismissed the reaction, attributing it to the still-existing tension between himself and the Dark One's son. Killian turned towards Emma's parents.

"Do you have the blanket and the pixie dust?" he asked Snow, though he already knew the answer. The woman would have sooner died than lost the key to her daughter's resurrection. She swiftly extracted the two items from her back pack and gave him a meaningful look as she handed them over to him. He immediately turned away to face Henry.

It had been decided that, since the ritual required a soul mate or something akin to and Emma had successfully revived Henry with true love's kiss at some point in time (a fact that Killian had not been all too surprised to hear – the bloody woman would probably walk over hot coals for her son), the kid would be the one to perform the ritual. Or at least, he would be the anchor.

Henry waited patiently for Killian to turn to him, though it was obvious that the child was having a hard time staying calm. With a haphazard glance at the horizon to gage their remaining time, he handed the pouch of white-gold dust to Emma's son along with her prized woollen baby blanket. It was her most precious possession and thus was needed for the ritual.

However, since there was only one, they could only perform the ritual once.

That was the only catch with this – soul retrieval's were a one-shot chance. Should you not have the correct item or correct person or even not the correct amount of pixie dust, the soul would remain in the realm indefinitely.

It was obvious that both Emma's parents and Neal were anxious about laying Emma's life in the hands of her eleven-year-old son, their eyes darting over his every movement. But, for some reason or another, the pirate had faith that the boy would sooner die than fumble this most important task.

Henry nodded solemnly as he took the two items in his hands and approached the edge of the lake.

Killian stepped back in the opposite direction to Emma's parents and Neal. Regina stood near the edge of the clearing, evidently feeling unwelcomed into what could become the resurrection of her sworn enemies' daughter. He didn't care though; he kept his eyes on the small boy standing at the edge of the lake.

The kid's small hands managed to untie the pouch as he clung tightly to the blanket under his arm, taking some of the white-gold powder and studying it momentarily. For a moment, Killian saw the innocence in him light up like a flame in darkness, his small soft eyes taking on an awe-struck look.

Nevertheless, the seriousness of their situation crashed down around him and his expression sobered. Taking a handful of the beautiful substance, he spread it over the blanket. He made sure to coat the entire thing so that eventually, it looked like a small ball of white fluff and pale gold glitter.

Henry held his mother's blanket at arm's length, inspecting it carefully to ensure that it was saturated in the pixie-dust and, satisfied that it was, held it closer to his body again.

Killian could see as Emma's son watched the lake, probably trying to see down to the bottom – as everyone did upon first seeing the beautiful body of water. The surface of the lagoon was flawless, like unbroken glass that occasionally flickered should a stray beam of light hit it. However, at its radius of about fifteen metres, it was clear the lake was deep by the dark blue that could only indicate fathomlessness.

But, because it was beautiful, the pirate knew it was deadly should someone fall in. Neverland may have been a perfect picture of exotic flowers and sandy beaches, but, for all its beauty, the realm was covered with reminders of just how delicate humans were. The pink flowers that rested on the trees enticed ignorant victims to stroke their silky soft petals, unaware that the moment it sensed heat in close proximity a black acidic gas would erupt from the miniscule pores, melting anything it could touch.

Killian shuddered thinking about his experience with the fauna of Neverland, horrific images flashing in his mind's eye. He blocked out the gruesome pictures by focussing his attention back onto the calm waters in front of him.

Lilith's Lagoon didn't have a known ending and Killian would guess that the reason no one had ever isolated the depth of the lake was because it didn't have one. It was, after all, the barrier between Neverland and the Wraith's Void.

Killian's gaze turned heavenwards as the temperature dropped marginally, the heat of the day wearing off as the sun's light became less penetrating. The sky continued to change colour, the watery purple tinting to pink as strands of orange streaked the vast space above them. The sun continued to descend and the clearing was silent as they waited for it to touch to edge of the horizon.

Every single person that stood around Lilith's Lagoon did so with bated breath.

And, as the fiery golden orb in the sky was just about to scrape the edge of the horizon, Henry threw the blanket into the lake. The small item caused the iridescent surface of the lake to ripple and splash as it hit the water, drifting down into the depths of Lilith's Lagoon until the bundle of wool was invisible beneath the masses of enchanted water.

Killian looked up just in time to witness as the sun touched the horizon and then it was as though the Neverwoods ceased all movement and time began to close in with every blink and every breath. Tick tock.

8888

"What's she like – your wife?" Emma asked, leaning her head in her hands as her elbows rested on her knees. Lancelot grinned endearingly, his gaze going to the sky as he visualised his wife. The blonde couldn't help the feeling of pity that began to gather in the bottom of her stomach; this man who, after who knew how long, was still holding out hope that his lover would find him.

Even she was beginning to have her doubts.

Time wasn't really measurable in the realm in which she was stuck – there was no night, only the dim grey daylight that extended forever. So, for all Emma knew, she could have been there for years and wouldn't know it.

The monotony of the place made it feel like she'd been there decades.

Lancelot finally turned back to face her, interrupting her thoughts, "She's beautiful. She has these gorgeous almond shaped eyes, and they're brown and they always make you feel warm when she looks at you. And she's so kind… but also a fighter. I've never met a stronger fighter – or a smarter. She beat me in a swordfight once – when we first met… but then, I'm probably biased."

Emma felt a small smile dust her lips, "I think everyone's allowed to be a little bit biased when it comes to people you love. For example, I think my son is the most intelligent young boy I've ever met – and ballsy."

"If he's anything like you, that's probably right," Lancelot said genuinely, and Emma noticed that he considered her with what appeared to be veneration. The instinct to put a wall up kicked in and she found it within her to subdue it, because if she was going to be in this realm for a while she might as well let someone in – after all, she was _technically_ dead for all intents and purposes.

Emma rolled her eyes and flicked a bashful hand in his direction. She stood up, brushing herself off and looking around them with a sigh. It really was a wearisome place.

She was musing this thought when suddenly, she felt a wave of dizziness settle over her and she stumbled on the spot. Lancelot quickly stood up, gripping her arm and steadying her as she felt the air thicken. Her muscles felt strangely sore and stretched, her sight dimming momentarily before returning with added quality. Everything was abruptly very well defined and her gaze flitted to Lancelot's face.

However, he was staring at her with an odd look etched on his face; like recognition mixed with sadness.

"What?" Emma asked, searching his eyes for an answer.

He didn't utter a word, and when he didn't, Emma looked down at herself with concern.

She was glowing.

Anxiety overtook her confusion, swallowing it as she tried to pinpoint the source of the feint golden aura that radiated from her skin. It was quite a disconcerting sight to behold.

"What's going on?" she asked, pinching herself on her forearm. Her skin reddened as the blood rushed to the area but the glow did not cease and she looked back up at the man still staring at her. He finally shook himself out of his reverie though, and smiled lightly.

"You're going home."

"What?"

"I've seen that before. Only once. Right before Phillip told me he heard a voice and then he just sort of faded away," Lancelot said, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder as her eyebrows knitted together.

Her blue-grey eyes met his and she took a deep calming breath, "Okay, so I should be hearing a voice soon?" he nodded, "And then what?"

To that, Lancelot had no reply, but the smile he gave her inadvertently calmed the nerves that were attempting to consume her. Silence enveloped them in the endless field and the blonde strained her ears for any sound, any voice that she might recognise. Nothing came, and something in the depths of her bones whispered that something was wrong.

8888

"Mom?" Henry's voice called out tentatively, "Mom?"

Nothing happened.

Killian watched lake for any signs of movement but there were none and Henry turned around to give his grandparents an uncertain look. They smiled back reassuringly though even the pirate could sense the lack of true conviction behind their mannerisms. The couple's faces immediately resumed their anxious appearance as the boy turned back to the still waters.

"Mom! It's Henry! Come back!" he called out, louder this time.

He took a minute step closer to the edge of the lake, "Mom! Emma! _Mom!_"

Still nothing.

The sun was still moving down into the water, nearly a quarter of the way consumed by the Neverland Ocean. Snow and Charming stepped closer, their hands interlocked.

"Emma!" the petite woman called out desperately, her husband following suit.

"Em!" her father yelled.

Nothing.

Neal stepped up and Killian had to quell the urge to tell the man to sit down, "Emma… Ems!"

It was with brief cruel satisfaction that he registered that nothing happened before he scolded himself for being so selfish. If it meant Emma would come back, he didn't mind Henry's father being revealed as her kindred spirit or whatever. Regardless of the lack of response, Neal continued to call, they all did.

But still, there was nothing.

The sun was still setting; an unforgiving timekeeper reminding them of their inferiority in the presence of powerful magic. Even from where he was standing, the pirate could see the tears glistening on Snow's cheeks as she continued to call out, her voice coming out as a strangled cry more so than an actual appeal.

Charming's arm moved to encircle his wife's shoulders, his own yells hoarse with the emotion threatening to pull him under. He stopped calling as his eyes found his wife's and her voice waned for a while before it drifted off into pitiful moaning.

Henry finally turned to glance at Killian, his eyes searching for a flicker of hope among the sudden desolation his family was displaying. Neal had finally stopped calling out, having fallen to his knees with a detached expression etched into his features.

The pirate looked up at the sunset, the glowing orange circle now halfway consumed – half of their time having gone.

Their window of opportunity was rapidly closing and Killian felt his heart-rate pick up at the sudden realisation that they might actually fail – that all of it may have been for nothing. Their luck would end, she would die, _he_ would die. And that thought, that he would never see her alive again – for real this time – was like a swift blow to his stomach. He nearly keeled over from the sudden and unsuspecting pain it caused him.

He clenched his fist, chewing his bottom lip and waiting for something, _anything_, to happen as her son soldiered on; all but screaming his mother's name over and over.

"Come on, love," Killian whispered in spite of himself.

To his utter shock, the water glowed ever-so-slightly, an evanescent turquoise shine lighting up the centre. Henry noticed this and his voice grew with conviction but the glow didn't come again. It took the pirate a moment to realise what had happened and, with hesitation, he took a marginal step in Henry's direction.

"Emma," he said quietly to himself, testing his theory.

The water glowed again.

He raised his eyes to the horizon – the sun was going down fast. They didn't have much time.

"Emma," he called, louder this time. The glow lasted longer, glowing in the fading light and then disappearing again. Henry's shouts persisted, and the pirate could tell that he would have no voice the next day by the way his words were cracked and broken.

Dismissing all inhibitions, everything that told him he was being stupid and naïve, everything that screamed at him to leave it because it would only result in his hurt, Killian moved to stand beside Emma's son.

"Emma!" he yelled, "Swan! _Emma_!"

The glow returned, spreading to the perimeter of the lagoon and growing in intensity with every avid shout and cry. Henry stopped shouting to look at the towering man beside him, realisation in his soft hazel eyes. He glanced between the lake and the roaring pirate, putting together the two undeniable facts presented to him silently.

The boy turned to look back at the rest of his family, at Snow who was no longer looking at them. She was leaning on Charming and the way she lamented into him made Henry think his grandmother was convinced they had failed.

Neal still sat to the side on his knees, eyes downcast and glazed over in deep, irretrievable thought. They had all given up.

Killian persisted with his calls, even when his voice began to waver with the effort it was requiring to yell out her name over and over; "Emma! Emma! Swan! Come on, love!"

It was oddly reminiscent of the time atop the beanstalk, when she had left him. He'd been furious and, reluctant as he was to admit it, hurt. Killian had been genuinely invested in her cause, honesty in his every word and action. And she'd still abandoned him – something he was yet to forgive her for, even in her current state.

Except, when he'd called out her name as she left him he'd been demanding for her to return out of anger, betrayal and something much deeper. This time, she was already gone and he was begging her to return; not just to him, but to her family and her life where she belonged. It was with hope and desperation that he repeated her name this time.

The sun was nearly gone, covered up by the edge of the ocean. The light was disappearing, the darkness coming out as a reminder of their closing time frame. It would be over soon, and a tiny voice in the back of the pirate's mind scolded him, crowing out in protest at the bright glimmer of hope that lit the dark recesses of his thoughts.

But nothing, not even his deepest, unrealised insecurities, seemed to matter as he continued to beg her to return with unrelenting vigour.

"_Emma_!"

8888

Emma turned her gaze on Lancelot, her stormy blue-grey eyes shaded by anxiety. She was still glowing but there was no sound, nothing for her to latch on to. Her companion's brow furrowed and he shook his head in confusion.

"Can you hear anything yet?" he asked, though he would already have known the answer.

"No… I – I can't," Emma replied, and for a long moment she considered what it would be like staying here for eternity. If her family really couldn't bring her back, if she was destined to live out her days in this never-ending field.

It was like a blow to her stomach and she had to resist the urge to keel over.

There would be a time when good didn't win – it was inevitable. But was this that loss? Was the ultimate death of the saviour that loss?

Lancelot abruptly grabbed her arm, his firm grip distracting her from the treacherous thoughts beginning to enter her head. His expression was panicked and his eyes scanned hers imploringly, glancing down at her body for a moment before meeting her blue-grey irises again.

"Don't you dare lose hope," he said, shaking her ever-so-slightly as if to get his point across.

Emma didn't understand what he meant until she looked down at herself. The skin that glowed gold was still iridescent but it was slightly opaque, the ground beneath her able to be seen through her legs; she was fading. She looked back up to Lancelot who still held her steady. But she didn't know what to say because she hadn't even realised she'd been losing hope.

How could you stop something you didn't know was happening in the first place?

He jarred her again, "Emma. Don't lose hope."

Her figure had faded infinitesimally again and she shook her head, "I don't know what I'm doing. It's not something I can control."

"Yes it is," Lancelot insisted, "you control it. Please don't give up."

Emma cocked her head to the side sadly, "How?"

"Just… don't," he replied, letting her go. The blonde opened her mouth to speak again when something quiet interrupted her thoughts. A voice drifting into her ears like a heady fog rolling into the field. She could _feel_ it; like it was something tangible she could grapple and hold on to.

"_Come on, love_."

It was fleeting though, and as quickly as it had come, it soon disappeared again.

Her eyes widened and she locked them onto Lancelot's.

"Did you –"

"Yes. Yeah, I heard something but I'm not sure," Emma replied, looking around their surrounding as though she might find the source of the voice. The silence was deafening as she strained to hear the voice again, and she was beginning to worry when it came again, tentative as if testing the waters.

"_Emma_."

She was shocked by whose voice it was; that lilting melodic tone that, despite her best efforts, caressed her with its soft tenor. She felt her mouth gape slightly and then the voice was back, calling her back, pulling her attention away from the man still standing in front of her.

It was a strange sensation, and every time the voice called out to her, she felt the golden glow become brighter and her body felt like it was tensing and hardening. She felt solid.

Lancelot smiled and the blonde watched as he dropped his arm and stepped back.

"_Emma! Emma, come on_!" the voice begged, drawing her away.

She would never have the words to properly explain what it was like; the sound was almost touchable, something she could feel with her mind. If she wanted, she could clasp onto it and see where it led, and she was sure it led to somewhere brighter than this dull landscape. She was positively certain it led home.

But there was something she needed to know, something that they hadn't yet discussed.

"What was your wife's name?" Emma asked, taking Lancelot by surprise with the sudden inquiry. He shook his head in confusion and she tried to momentarily drown out the man's voice growing louder and more frantic in her ear.

"I'll bring you back – what's your wife's name?" she asked again, watching with warmth as he gave her a caring smile.

Lancelot opened his mouth to speak but his words were drowned out by the voice now breaking with the effort it was taking to continue calling to her. She wanted to snap at it to shut up but couldn't since there was no way for its owner to actually hear her.

"What?" she yelled, but her voice was muted and the glow brightened.

He replied again but the voice drowned his response once again. For some peculiar reason, Emma felt like the voice was a sort of rope and she could sense the end of the line coming on quick. She had one more chance to get the woman's name before she would have to grab hold of the hopeful pleas.

"What?" she boomed and yet it only came out as a whisper.

With one last cry, Lancelot called out the name. And Emma grasped onto the familiar accented voice in her head. There was a whooshing noise and everything became too bright, white light blanking out her vision and forcing her to close her eyes against the maelstrom of sensations.

She didn't know if she'd caught it in time, and had no time to muse it as her body was pulled in all directions at once.

The voice was her anchor, rushing past nothingness until she reached a final barrier. It was rigid and she used all her willpower to push against it, struggling to keep a firm grip on the constant cries of her name.

Fatigue began to seep into her bones and it was the first time in what felt like forever that she actually felt something.

The only problem was that the exhaustion prolonged her struggle against the barrier.

And she momentarily forgot the world, why she was doing it, why she was even trying. Her memories were hazy, her feeling all but lost. It felt wrong, but she couldn't place why. There was a strange tugging sensation, greater than gravity, enticing her to let go and come back down. To fall into the abyss of nothingness that awaited.

She was beginning to loosen her hold, when the voice called her back, hauling her through the barrier and away from the treacherous contemplations.

"_Emma!_"

And then everything was blank.

8888

Killian looked desperately up towards where the sun was still setting, and he could almost feel it laughing at him, calling him on his failures. He called out over and over, his voice breaking and his throat being torn apart until his voice didn't even sound like his own.

There was maybe a few seconds left, the golden hues all but gone from the sky as the sun slowly ended the daylight. He looked back towards the rest of their troop; at Snow who had finally succumbed to grief and fallen into her husband's arms. It was incongruously resonant of the first time Emma had died, and she had lain broken over her daughter's motionless body.

He shifted his gaze towards Henry's father, to Neal. He'd fallen to his knees, his eyes staring off into oblivion. Something in him seemed fragmented, and not even the rapidly dropping temperature could shake him from his reverie.

And finally, Killian's ice blue eyes landed on Henry, who still fervently called out to his mother as though his last thirty tries hadn't already failed. The small boy was immovable, his fists clenched at his sides, his eyes focused on the glowing waters of Lilith's Lagoon.

For some reason, seeing this – her son, defiant, unwilling to give up – gave him new vigor. It reminded Killian of her.

The sun was about to set, it's last light glimpsing on the horizon as he called out as loud as he could manage despite his mangled throat.

"_Emma_!"

And then the sun had disappeared behind the dark blue ocean, the stars their only light on the cliff. It was silent except for the soft whimpers of Snow as she pressed her face into her husband's shoulder.

Henry looked up to meet the pirate's blank stare, and Killian was unsurprised to see tears forming. The child bit down hard on his lip, turning back to the glowing waters.

Had they failed?

Killian's forehead creased in a deep frown, his mind reluctant to admit defeat. She couldn't be gone. Just try again. Maybe the blanket wasn't her only prized possession. Maybe they'd gotten the ritual wrong.

She wasn't gone.

She couldn't be.

He let his eyes drift slowly back to the lake, the eerie turquoise glow tinting their faces a strange shade of green.

Suddenly, a shocking white mist erupted from the centre of the lake. The small group of people looked up, their eyes glued to it as it rose up about a metre off the surface of the lagoon. Its undefined shape morphed into a long silhouette, most likely human.

Without warning, the strange bright smog rushed across the lake. It wasn't difficult to determine its desired destination as it rolled through the crystalline surface of the water.

Emma's body didn't move as it enveloped her, almost masking her figure entirely as it wrapped its smoky tendrils around each of her extremities. The white mist expanded momentarily, a bright light shining from the centre of her form, and then it began to retreat into her until eventually there was a feint white glowing surrounding her body.

Everyone was quiet as it subsided completely, and the lake too lost its radiance. There was a moment of collective silence, and then their entire group was moving closer to her.

Killian stayed further back – and for many reasons; he didn't want to intrude but there was also still a small part of him telling him he'd failed and that it was all just a fluke. So he didn't move too close, because he didn't want to get too close only to see he'd failed. Just like he always did.

Henry was immediately at Emma's side, his small hands gripping her arm in a desperate bid to help her wake up. The darkness of the night made it near impossible to see and Regina approached the small congregation of people gather around the blonde.

Neal was kneeling beside Henry, her parents on her other side.

As Regina approached, she took off her black leather gloves, flicking her wrists thrice before concentrating hard. It was like turning on an old dusty light, flickering a couple of times before a dull brightness shone from her palms, illuminating their small group.

From his spot two metres away, Killian could just see as Henry looked up at his adoptive mother hopefully, an underlying lacework of gratitude there as well. She smiled back, nodding in silent reassurance as he turned back to stare at his paternal mother's cemented face.

A pin dropping could probably be heard as they waited, the silence stretching out for what felt like hours but was surely only minutes.

And then, before anyone had time to doubt themselves again, there was a flicker of movement. Her eyelids fluttered slightly, the long dark eyelashes brushing against the pale cheeks.

Though they couldn't see it, pink began to blossom in said cheeks, tinting them a healthy shade of rose. Her torso warmed and a small breath escaped her pink lips. They parted marginally before suddenly, a pair of stormy blue-grey eyes opened.

Emma Swan took a great heaving breath and Killian Jones released one he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

**I know this chapter wasn't as big as some of my other ones but hopefully I made up for it with the fast-pace and what-not. Now the fun can **_**really**_** begin because oh hey der Emma, you're back.**

**Reviews are jumping in a volcano when Colin O'Liferuiner said our favourite line at Comic-Con. Don't lie. I know you did it – we **_**all**_** did!**


	11. Chapter 10: Homecoming

**A/U I am _so _sorry for taking so long with this update – I have been so outrageously busy of late, but that is no excuse. Just a warning, the updates are going to be a little slow for a while just because things are getting a bit hectic. Combined with the fact that my muse is being difficult, and voila, slow updates. Nevertheless, enjoy!**

**Chapter Ten: Homecoming**

The sky was the very first thing that she saw; dark and illuminated by millions of stars, spattered unevenly across the great expanse before her. She felt the oxygen enter her unused lungs, filling them as she inhaled deeply and then flowing freely out as she exhaled. It was as if a fog hazed her mind and she clutched desperately at the straws of her fractured memories.

For what felt like a long moment, Emma couldn't clearly recall much of anything – her mind a blank canvas. It was a strangely disconcerting feeling; being unable to evoke any semblance of personality or individuality. And then, like paint slowly being added to a portrait, she remembered. Dabs of black and grey outlined her troubled past. A streak of pure white stressed a brief flicker of hope before being dashed by a line of dark purple. The canvas filled with more dark paint, a dirty collage filled with loneliness and heartache before something akin to gold dripped down from a corner.

It slowly spread, tinting much of the dark painting until a great deal of the obscurity was masked by a beautiful pattern of gold and white. For a moment, the brightness was reduced as black was thrown into the centre of the canvas, a dark spot like a cavity in a chest. But quickly, the golden pattern re-emerged, creating a lattice of lines over the black – not completely covering it but obscuring it enough that it wasn't blatantly obvious. Almost like a Band-Aid being applied to a deep wound. Temporary and utterly ineffective.

Bright colours detailed the edges and then there was a flash of red. It splattered unexpected across the canvas of her memory; a man with ice blue eyes and a hook for a hand.

Her thoughts began to speed up until eventually her recollections reached what had occurred just seconds ago. A voice begging her to return, a man yelling a name, pushing through some kind of barrier.

Emma blinked, and a familiar face came into sight – a toothy grin spread across his face. She felt her chest constrict almost painfully at the sight of him, shaggy haired and pale, her heart beating fast as he leaned down and gripped her tightly. The blonde sat up with stiff limbs, immediately returning the embrace fiercely and nuzzling into the top of his head. She smiled in spite of the tears that threatened to spill, holding him tightly until he began to pull away.

"Mom," Henry said simply, his face nearly glowing from the elation that rolled off him.

Before she could respond, two pairs of arms were wrapping around her from the side and she started slightly at the strange feeling. As she felt one of the people holding her shake, Emma tilted her head up to identify them and quickly reciprocated the movement when she noticed whose arms they were.

Mary Margaret clutched almost frantically at her daughter, clenching and unclenching her hands in the red jacket she was still wearing. It was as though she were habitually checking Emma's solidity, ensuring this wasn't just another dream. David held his arms around the two women, a look of pure relief broadcasted across his hardened features.

After a long moment, Emma pulled back to look at the people surrounding her. Mary Margaret's cheeks glistened in the evening light, wet from the tears still forming a torrent down her face. Even as the saviour drew away, she maintained a firm grip on her upper arm.

Emma met her mother's eyes and gave her a watery smile, touching the hand on her shoulder. Beside her, David stared awe-struck at the blonde, his blue eyes glistening with unshed tears of elation and pride.

She turned to her other side, to where Henry was still kneeling beside her. His grin hadn't moved an inch and it warmed every part of her being to see him so happy.

Her eyes drifted up to a male figure behind him, brown eyes locked onto her with what could only be described as respite. And standing behind him, to her utter astonishment, was Regina – the woman who'd only a short time ago attempted to kill her. The woman met her gaze and gave her a cool nod of acknowledgement, though she could swear she saw a small smirk tug at the corners of the stoic woman's burgundy lips.

Emma continued to search the area around her, a particular face in mind. She tried not to make it too obvious as her eyes darted out in pursuit of _him_.

Mary Margaret and David began to stand up and Henry did the same. As Neal got to his feet, he held his hand out to help the blonde up. Her pride strongly protested the aid but the objections of her sore muscles were louder. She took his hand and he lifted her gently to her feet.

Emma gasped in shock when he pulled her towards him; stiffening as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly to his chest. Something akin to affection unexpectedly bubbled up in her and she put her arms around his waist, patting him lightly on the back. With her head resting on his shoulder, Emma looked behind him and her breath hitched imperceptibly when her eyes landed on a dark silhouette standing a short distance away.

Ice blue eyes burned into hers as she met his gaze, his face unreadable. The fathomless expression hardened as his eyes raked over her and then dropped to the ground.

Emma drew away from Neal, softly extracting herself from his arms and smiling half-heartedly.

There was a moment of silence as she took in the faces around her again, wandering from her parents to her son, to Neal, to Regina before straying towards Killian who played idly with his hook. He appeared bored but Emma could see the way his jaw was set, like a chink in his armour. She ignored the strange feeling in the pit of her stomach and turned to look at her surroundings. The sky was far too clear for them to be anywhere near Storybrooke and the lake to her left was like nothing she'd ever seen, which begged the question; where _were_ they?

"So," she finally said, coughing a bit when her voice came out cracked, "What have I missed?"

8888

Killian kept his eyes focused on his metal appendage as he waited for them to finish explaining to the Swan girl. He could hear as they answered all of her questions diligently, leaving out no detail – _except perhaps the importance of his involvement_, a bitter voice whispered in the back of his head. The pirate had felt his chest lighten as she finally woke up, embraced by her family in a heart-warming spectacle.

But then, when she'd gathered herself and stood up, _he'd_ hugged her, jerking her forwards and enveloping her in his arms.

Killian didn't want to identify the source or meaning of the sharp sting he'd felt as he watched Neal hold her. Or the intensifying of that feeling when she'd reciprocated the movement and incidentally met his gaze.

He honestly didn't know what he'd expected, but it hadn't been this. Not this flurry of relief and excitement followed by blatant ignorance. Indignation simmered in his chest as he glanced up at the happy family, smiling wildly as they retold their tale thus far. It was with surprise that he noted someone beside him.

"What are you doing over here?" Regina asked, having walked over to him while he was deceptively consumed by the maintenance of his hook. Killian schooled his features into an expression that conveyed boredom with the slightest edge of impatience. He met her eyes fleetingly, a mirthless smirk tilting his lips.

"I'm giving the princess time with her family – time to catch up. She did, after all, miss quite a bit during her nice little nap," he replied drolly.

Regina narrowed her eyes at him, scrutinising him shamelessly. She looked back at Emma and her family, a brief shadow of understanding crossing her face before she raised her eyebrows in deliberation. She didn't speak again though, shoving her hands in the pockets of her large black coat and waiting patiently alongside him for the group to finish.

Killian forced himself to think of something else; focusing on their bedding arrangements for the night. The sun had set and night was beginning to takes its full effect as the air grew colder, and he could only imagine the nocturnal animals coming out to play. His breath came out in sharp white wisps as he mused their options: trek back to the ship, stay in the clearing or find another place to stay in the woods.

He immediately dismissed the first option – they wouldn't make it before the night reached its peak, when the Neverwoods were at their finest. Being in the vicinity of the dense forest was bad enough, let alone trudging blindly through in the dead of night when silence was vital to survival. So, they could either stay in the clearing of Lilith's Lagoon or move further into the forest. The only problem with the clearing was it made them easy pickings for the dreaded shadow, should its flight path cross over Lilith's Lagoon. Thus, Killian decided they would make their way a short distance into the denser area of the forest and set up camp there.

Looking up around him, the night sky slowly becoming darker, Killian's patience waned and he looked back over at the small congregation. Their conversation had transferred ends; Emma was no longer asking questions so much as being told irrelevant information.

The pirate sighed and made his way towards them and, indifferent façade fixed firmly in place, coughed to gain their attention.

Emma was the first to whirl towards him, a strange look flashing in her eyes as they landed on him.

"As much as I do hate to break the happy reunion, we do have to set up camp. It'd be a shame for us to come all this way only to fall prey to Neverland," he said, levelling them each with a calculated stare – except Henry, whom he avoided looking at altogether. The boy's presence a simple, unintentional reminder of the happy family he'd helped reunite – and the loneliness that had already started creeping up on him.

"Okay, where are we going?" Emma asked, taking him slightly off guard as she addressed him for the first time since her demise. His eyes locked onto hers in the darkness and he maintained a neutral expression.

"Into the forest – the foliage will shroud us from the shadow," he replied.

"The what?" she countered with raised eyebrows.

Killian sighed, "I was told that people from your realm have heard of the dreaded thing – suffice it to say; it's not good. Ergo, we should start moving… if you please."

Henry was the first to nod, sidling up to his mother and smiling at Killian. He returned the gesture gently, looking around at them all once more and turning on his heel, unsheathing his sword in the process.

The pirate headed straight for the tree line, glancing behind him to ensure they were following and, sure enough, Emma and her family along with Regina were padding quietly across the grass after him.

8888

Emma kept an arm around Henry as they walked through the dark woodlands, her eyes straining to make out her surroundings. The moonlight that crept through the foliage overhead was the only thing that prevented her and her family from running into trees, though she did trip over at least a dozen roots as they walked.

She kept her eyes ahead, on Killian who was striding confidently and quietly through the shrubbery, forging a path for them with every lithe swing of his sword. Emma nearly ran into him when he stopped, stumbling a couple of steps before coming to a halt behind him. She let go of Henry and moved to stand beside him, scrutinising the area before them.

As she looked at the dense undergrowth and trees, her eyes found his face in the dim filtered moonlight. His ice blue eyes shone brilliantly as he looked over the area for a long moment before turning around to the group, seemingly ignoring Emma's presence beside him.

"We'll stop here," he said quietly, "It's going to get colder than it is now, so get warm. But don't dare use a fire or _I'll_ kill you before the beasts do." He spun back around and headed straight towards a large tree, sitting down against it and pulling out a small container of what Emma presumed was _not_ water.

Mary Margaret pulled her backpack around and, after some brief searching, extracted some food packages. Emma took hers gratefully, smiling at her mother and moving over to another of the trees with Henry. They sat down and everyone seemed to make sure they were in each other's line of sight.

Her stomach growled angrily and she felt her mouth salivate just thinking about the food in her hands – she hadn't eaten in what felt like months. Emma pulled away at the brown wrappings frantically and dug ravenously into the slice of bread that lay there. As she chewed, she looked over the contents of her meal; an apple and two slices of bread. It was a humble banquet and yet she could only think how amazing it was.

Emma took another large bite and turned to her son, maternal instincts prompting her to check up on him. He was holding the slice of bread in his hands and grinned at her, giving her a look that told her he'd watched as she became a Neanderthal in the presence of food. She swallowed the piece she was chewing and sneered at him light-heartedly, evoking a small giggle from the boy.

Henry ripped off a morsel of the bread and popped it in his mouth and, pleased he was eating, Emma let her gaze and thoughts wander.

Her eyes landed immediately on her parents who were sitting beside her and Henry, diligently eating the bread and fruit with the composure of true royals – even though they were in the middle of a freaking forest. She suddenly wondered what she would have been like if she'd grown up under their care; would she still have become the stubborn, determined woman she was? Emma studied her parents, their mannerisms and short affectionate exchanges. It was only when they returned her gaze that she felt the need to focus her attention elsewhere, smiling at her mother and father briefly and tilting her head to the other side.

On Henry's other side, Neal was sitting close by. When she looked towards him, she nearly started at the realisation he was staring at her. When they locked gazes, he smiled softly. Emma paused before giving him a tight smile and facing forwards again, suddenly uncomfortable being the centre of attention.

She thought she heard a barely audible snicker and raised her head questioningly. Leaning against the tree two metres opposite from her was Killian, his cerulean eyes considering her with a sense of amusement. She met his gaze and raised an eyebrow, miffed as to why he would be laughing at her. The pirate hadn't touched his food portions yet, turning the package over in his one good hand as he studied her.

They held each other's stare and, when he glanced at Neal and her parents, she realised he was entertained by the strange dynamic that currently existed between them all.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head in silent response but he continued to scrutinise her. Emma didn't move under his inspection, schooling her features into an impassive mask as he searched for something unidentifiable. The blonde watched as his icy irises lost some of their mirth, replaced by something she couldn't place.

The exchange was suddenly very intense and she narrowed her eyes ever so slightly, trying to get a read on him.

"Who's taking the first watch?" David's voice interrupted the strange exchange and Emma's eyes snapped onto her father. Killian tucked the food portions in his satchel and stood up.

"I think I'll be doing that – this section of the evening is the most dangerous and I know what to look out for. I'll wake you in two hours," the pirate responded apathetically. Emma swallowed the last of her bread and waited for David to protest and claim ulterior motives.

"Okay."

The blonde stiffened and looked to Killian whose features were fleetingly consumed by shock and confusion. But as soon as the emotions registered on his face, they were gone, swept away by an expression of indifference.

David had actually just agreed to lay some sliver of trust in the pirate's hand.

Emma suddenly wondered just how much she'd missed during her brief comatose state.

Mary Margaret pulled her backpack around, drawing out several tightly packed thin blankets and distributing them around the group – even the pirate whose attention was now on their surroundings. Emma took the blanket and watched as her parents made themselves comfortable in the dirt. They looked oddly peaceful, despite the hard, stick strewn ground. She wondered if they'd had experience with sleeping on forest floors before and shrugged it off as she turned to Henry.

He had already untied his small blanket and was beginning to lay it out. Neal was sitting up, eyes closed and, against the tree next to him, Regina looked to be close to sleep not far away, propped up, her eyes drooping further with every lazy blink.

Henry shuffled closer to his mother and Emma put an arm around his shoulders, holding him against her side as she draped her own blanket over the both of them.

When Emma looked down at him, now safe and content in her arms and slowly drifting off to sleep, she felt emotion suddenly swell in her chest and tears prickle the back of her eyelids. She had never been an overtly sentimental person, but in that moment she felt consumed by the feelings washing over her.

_Gratitude._

_Relief._

_Love_.

A small smile dusted her lips as she watched fatigue settle over her son, his breathing slower and deeper as he fell asleep tucked into her side. She leaned back against the trunk of the tree and sighed, looking up at the canopy of trees just covering the full moon. Its light only just filtered down into their small camp site, barely illuminating the dirt floor.

She waited for a long moment for exhaustion to wash over her, but it didn't come. Emma realised very quickly that she was surprisingly alert; starting every time she heard some strange noise in the dense undergrowth surrounding them.

The blonde looked around at their little group – her parents were fast asleep, David's arm draped over Mary Margaret's shoulder in an affectionate embrace, Henry was still cradled to her side though now he was facing outwards towards Neal and Regina who were slumbering peacefully. Her eyes drifted around their circle and came to a stop on a pair of ice blue irises. Killian was still looking around them and, with his attention drawn elsewhere, she found herself studying him.

He leaned against the trunk of the tree lazily, tedium rolling off him. And yet, there was an undeniable undercurrent of rigidity to his stance that made Emma think twice about his impassive front.

He looked bored to the untrained eye. But he was definitely on high alert – for what, Emma didn't want to know.

Killian's eyes drifted over their surroundings and abruptly landed on her. She realised to her chagrin that she had been staring, immediately admonishing herself for being so stupid. She expected him to smirk or do something arrogant, but instead a funny expression began to shade his face.

Images flashed in her mind's eye: the last time she saw him, being in the dark room with silence encompassing her, being in the dark room as he spoke about her, hearing his voice when her skin had begun to glow.

His words bounced around in her head, the ones he'd muttered seemingly to himself, unaware that she could hear him.

"_You don't have a claim here, not to her anyway…"_

Emma dropped her gaze, only so she could gently remove Henry from her side, delicately lowering him back down onto the ground. She didn't really know what she was doing as she made sure her son was comfortable before quietly moving towards him. His eyes regarded her curiously, almost hesitantly, as she leaned on the tree beside him and folded her arms across her chest.

He had been right about one thing.

It was getting bloody cold.

She rubbed the gooseflesh that had broken out across her arms and looked around, avoiding his eyes for a long moment.

"Why are you here?" she finally asked, meeting his stare unflinchingly. Emma never had been one to skirt the subtleties. Her tone wasn't accusatory; it was curious, unsure and hesitant. Killian's eyes flickered between hers for a second, and he too folded his arms across his chest.

"Your family enlisted my assistance, so I came."

_Lie_.

She shook her head almost imperceptibly, trying to decide whether to call him out on the untruth. It felt as though they were suddenly on the precipice of a great revelation, something that neither of them was prepared for. She realised this and, chewing her bottom lip, chose not to intercede. As she continued to probe his face for answers to unspoken questions, Emma noticed the stoniness in his usually relaxed features.

Something was off about him, and she couldn't quite place why it bothered her so much that he should feel unhappy.

"Shouldn't you be trying to sleep, princess?" he asked, turning his ice blue gaze on her.

She shrugged, her eyes drifting down to her feet as she kicked at the dirt with her boots, "Can't. I guess being asleep for a week will do that to you." He hummed appreciatively and she looked up at him again. They were silent again, the only sound coming from the clicking of insects and occasional rustling of leaves.

Hook's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as the words tumbled from his lips, "What was it like… being, for all intents and purposes, dead?"

Emma shifted her weight uncomfortably, instantly recalling the dark room. She considered telling him for a short second, before her protective instincts kicked into gear, shoving the memories down into the recesses of her mind. He didn't need to know – it would only fuel his ego.

Something small within her scoffed at that notion, reminding her that thus far she was yet to see a display of his usual arrogance.

Emma sighed, her breath coming out in a long white wisp.

She didn't really know why she was even speaking to him at all, so she figured no harm could be done by explaining the surreal experience.

"It was strange… I was in another dimension – or something like that," her mind throbbed just thinking about it, "I don't really know. It was a giant, never-ending field. And I couldn't feel anything – at all. Boring as bat-shit."

Hook chuckled at her last comment and she unwittingly found the edges of her mouth pulling up tightly. She stifled the urge to smile back, but something about the way he looked at her told her it was obvious that she, too, found the entire situation comical.

"So _that's_ why you were acting downright primitive earlier," he replied dryly, a small genuine smile still fixed in place.

Emma frowned and kicked him lightly in the shin, "Shut up."

She turned to look at their small group again, eyes roaming over Neal and Regina and Henry and her parents, all content in sleep. It was strange to think that they'd all come back for her, that they'd all taken such great lengths just to get her back. She mused for a moment who would have come up with the idea to save her – probably Henry. The kid was optimistic to a fault.

Nevertheless, her throat still constricted when she remembered the man in front of her.

He was there. He didn't have a reason to be.

He had come of his own volition – because the Gods knew that no one could make Hook do what he didn't want to do. He had come to a land that they all claimed was wrought with danger, momentarily given up on his revenge – something that did not go unnoticed by Emma – and kept her family safe all without recompense.

What angle was he taking?

"Thank you."

The murmured approbation left her lips before she had the opportunity to restrain it. His eyes flickered with something unidentifiable in the moonlight, and he stayed still for a long moment before nodding once lightly. She didn't have to explain the statement; he knew what she was thanking him for. She should have been disconcerted that he could read her that well, that her words need not be elucidated, that he simply read the subtext there and responded accordingly.

But she wasn't.

She was grateful for not having to explain.

"So, you've been here before?" she probed, searching his eyes.

He nodded, "Aye, that I have. Hasn't changed very much – still a downright deadly destination."

Emma smirked momentarily, "Nice alliteration."

He gave her a funny look, somewhere between curiosity and amusement and shrugged nonchalantly, sighing and leaning his head back against the tree trunk, "I do try."

She shook her head, schooling her features into indifference again, already scolding herself for the momentary lack in judgement for allowing him the small smile. Lancelot had really gotten to her in the past week. Stupid knight in shiny armour.

"So, got any survival advice?" she asked, looking up at the branches overhead as well.

He smirked, "Are you planning on taking a vacation here, love?"

Emma scoffed, "No – just curious."

There was a long moment of silence before he responded, and she could hear the smile in his voice as he whispered the words in a raspy tone, "The more beautiful something is, the more dangerous it is." Emma nodded appreciatively, taking the statement into consideration. Evidently, though, he wasn't finished speaking and she looked down to his eyes when she heard his voice.

"Which would make you lethal," he murmured, his eyes flitting down from the sky to meet hers briefly, a genuine smile spreading across his lips. It was like watching ice melt – his initial demeanour had been so distant, she actually found herself appreciating the pirate she was used to. Emma scoffed quietly.

"I've been awake for a couple of hours and you're already making innuendos," she retorted dryly, giving him a deadpan look.

"Not an innuendo it it's true, darling," he replied smoothly.

She shook her head, trying in vain to shove down the warmth already starting to take hold of her.

It was silent again and Emma distantly noted the feeling of gooseflesh breaking out across her skin, instantly attributing it to the frigid night air. However, when her eyes drifted down the trunk of the tree to Hook, she felt her heart shrivel up in her chest. His eyes were unfocused as he appeared to be trying to listen out for something. She held her breath, straining her ears to isolate the sound that suddenly had him alarmed. But she had never been to Neverland, so she didn't know what to listen out for. But whatever it was, Hook heard it again because he was suddenly striding to where Neal slept. The pirate shook him none too gently, and the man groaned in his groggy state.

When he opened his eyes and saw that it was Hook, a scowl took form on his face.

"What?" he hissed, pushing himself up onto his feet.

It was only when he noted Hook's expression that his facial expression sobered and he repeated the question with less antagonism and a bucket-load of concern.

"What?"

"Tell me if I'm wrong but do you hear what I hear?" the pirate asked in a hushed tone. Both men ignored Emma as they listened closely to the sounds around them until Neal's eyes widened in horror.

"What's it doing this far South?" Neal demanded, his voice suddenly raw with fear.

Hook shook his head rapidly, "I don't know. Wake everybody up – we need to move." The pirate turned to Emma, pointing at her family and instructing, "Get them up, leave the blankets, we don't have time to pack everything up." She nodded, her movements broken and jumpy as fear began to course through her body, an unwanted emotion cementing her muscles on the spot.

She pivoted and was quickly kneeling beside her parents, ushering them awake. They looked up at her through hooded lids and, when they saw her face, were quickly pushing themselves into a standing position.

"What's going on?" Mary Margaret asked as she straightened out her shirt.

Emma shook her head, "I don't know – something's coming and Hook and Neal both said we need to move." Her two parents nodded and made motion to pack up their things but the blonde grasped her mother's arm.

"We don't have time to pack up, the second Henry wakes up, we're leaving," she said.

A look of confusion and apprehension crossed Mary Margaret's face but she nodded, standing up and walking with David over to where Hook stood with Neal and Regina. Emma kneeled beside Henry and shook him gently until his eyes fluttered open.

"Mom?"

"Henry, we need to go – come on, get up kid," she helped him lightly to his feet, and he turned to her with anxious eyes.

"What's going on?" Henry asked as Emma led him over to where their group was congregated.

"I don't really know, but we need to move," was all she said, the line feeling like a mantra now that she'd repeated it so many times. When Hook saw her approaching he began speaking, simultaneously drawing out his sword and moving towards the denser part of their miniature clearing, already preparing to start their impromptu trek.

"Follow me, do not stop until I tell you to and do not make any noises. Do you all understand?" he said and, though low, his voice held all the authority Emma expected a captain should possess. They all nodded and, without hesitation, Hook began cutting down the foliage impeding their path, forging a new trail in the forest.

The group walked briskly over the undergrowth, their pace a lot faster than before, their movements slightly panicked as the effect of the Neverwoods at night seeped in.

It had barely been twenty minutes when Neal ran up from the back to walk beside Hook.

"It's close, we can't outrun it. We need to get into the trees," he said, instantly looking up and searching for a suitable trunk. Hook nodded and Emma felt the dire nature of their situation – when else would the pirate have instantaneously agreed with the Dark One's son? Hook motioned for them to follow him and the group stopped in front of a large tree with thick branches. The lowest branch was probably three metres off the ground.

Hook turned to Neal, "You go up first and help pull everyone else up. Get them to keep climbing until it's too dangerous to do so," he said, steadying himself against the tree. Neal nodded, bracing his hands on the pirate's shoulders and stepping onto them.

Hook grunted with the effort it took to hold Neal's weight but eventually the latter was able to grab a hold of the lowest branch and heave himself up. He swung his legs over the branch and leaned over, letting his arm dangle down so he was ready to help the rest of them up.

Henry was first, the young boy pushed up almost effortlessly into his father's arms. As soon as he landed on the branch, Neal instructed him to start climbing and the boy did as he was told, manoeuvring himself onto another branch half a metre up.

Next was Regina, then Mary Margaret and then, after Emma refused to go up next, David. As her father was lifted up into the tree, Hook levelled her with a look that told her he would be immovable on the order of who would go up next. She sighed, pulling herself up on his shoulders and grabbing a hold of Neal's hand. She pulled herself up and let her eyes roam heavenwards, to where Henry and her parents were making their way slowly up the tree.

Emma turned around, looking down to where Hook was lodging his hook into the tree so he could climb up just enough to reach Neal's hand.

"Come on, hurry up," Neal whispered, stretching his hand down frantically.

Both men's eyes widened in fear, just before Emma registered the sound rapidly approaching. It sounded like crickets clicking, but deeper, more rabid. The noise became loud, very loud, and then broke off into a colossal roar that echoed throughout the forest. Her eyes darted between his figure and the shape she could vaguely see barrelling through the undergrowth from her position in the tree.

Emma's eyes locked onto Killian's ice blue ones and she felt her heart constrict at what she saw: a strange and morbid mixture of fear and acceptance. He unlodged his appendage from the tree and Neal pulled his arm up as the pirate turned to face the direction the roars were coming from.

"What are you doing?" Emma hissed, leaning down, "Hook! _Hook!_" Her voice grew louder with every syllable. But he didn't move and Neal's hand now had a firm purchase on her upper arm.

She watched in horror as the rustling leaves shook more violently until something jumped out towards Killian, its iridescent flesh glinting briefly in the moonlight before it knocked him over with a poignant grunt and primal growl. And the ball of man and animal disappeared into the bushes.

Emma didn't realise what she was doing until she'd done it, ripping her arm out of Neal's grip and jumping down from the branch. She landed on the dirt harshly, dropping to her knees and rolling onto her side slightly with the impact.

A voice that sounded oddly like Hook's yelled angrily at her in her mind, _What are you doing? You only just got back and you're already running head-first into danger?_

And it was true, what she was doing was reckless and insulting to her family – they'd saved her from oblivion just to have her throw it in their faces by sprinting to the first possible near-death experience. But something deep in the pits of her gut wouldn't let her sit down while Hook became supper for whatever the hell that creature was.

She had to do something.

She winced as she pushed herself up onto her feet and Henry's voice reached her from above, "Mom! Mom, what are you doing?"

But Emma didn't have time to reply and, ignoring the pain in her ankle, sprinted in the direction the beast had taken Hook. Behind her, she heard the dull thud of boots hitting the ground as Neal's voice called out in protest.

"Emma!" he yelled in vain as she sprinted past the bushes and out of sight.

There was a long second where he warred with himself, glancing between the tree and the shrubbery where she'd just disappeared. He looked back up to where Henry was now leaning over the branch he was perched on, trying to identify the source of the commotion at the base. Neal groaned and called up to their group in the tree.

"Stay here!" he bellowed, ignoring the fact that doing so would draw unnecessary attention in the previously quiet forest.

Without waiting for reply, he ran head first into the bushes where Emma had gone. It was half an hour of aimless searching the surrounding area before, with a frustrated growl and a kick aimed at the base of the closest tree, he turned back. He would do their group no good by getting lost, especially since he was their next best guide with Hook dispatched for the time being.

8888

Twigs and leaves scratched at Emma's body as she ran after Hook, leaving tiny red marks on her arms and face. She followed her ears, unable to see anything in the evening light, and was relieved when she sensed the commotion of growls and grunts growing closer with every stride over the forest floor. The density of the trees looked as though it was spreading out and she could just barely see through to where there appeared to be a large clearing. A glint of silver, a flash of a black silhouette and then, making Emma skid to a sudden stop, a cry of pain.

It was as if a shot of adrenaline was sent through her again, doubling the high she was already on and sending her barrelling towards the noises at unimaginable speed. Her heart beat painfully against her chest, her breathing laboured as she pushed herself to run faster, faster, faster.

Emma had nearly reached the last line of trees when her foot caught on a thick tree root, sending her plummeting forward. She dived headfirst, putting her hands out to catch her fall as she landed on the grassy edge of the clearing. The impact forced every last iota of breath from her lungs and she grunted loudly as she landed harshly on her numbed limbs.

"_Swan_! What the hell are you doing? _Get out of here_!" Hook's voice roared, so potent with anger she almost flinched. But there was another noise, something that overrode the wrath in his voice, that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up like an audience rising for a brilliant performance.

The clearing was abruptly very quiet and Hook's voice could just barely be heard as Emma pushed herself up on to her hands and knees, inhaling deeply to try and steady her breathing.

"Don't… move," he said with forced composure.

There was a low growl, so close she could feel the vibrations in the beast's chest.

Emma lifted her head up, holding her muscles rigidly still as she did.

Her eyes snapped onto the thing standing two metres away from her, its glowing green eyes flashing unceremoniously with bloodthirsty hunger. It looked like a jungle cat, large and sleek with the head of a jaguar. But it was at least twice the size, and where glossy black fur should have covered its body, there were silver scales.

The beast growled low and deep again, its hackles rising as it pulled back its lip to show its teeth; a long line of pinpoint-sharpened fangs that glinted ominously in the moonlight.

Emma glanced briefly at Hook, his ice blue eyes flickering to her at almost the exact time, filled with unadulterated fear and anxiety. She'd only ever seen him look like that once before in her life – with the wraith.

**Dum dum duuuuuuumm!**

**Review?**


End file.
